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•SONGS- 
OP 

THE 

QOCKIE5 




BY 

CHAPLES 

EDWIN 
•HEWES- 




Class _J_ld_2f51 



Book>^ ^S"^^ 



H\ 



Copyright 11^.. 



/^/-/ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSITS 



SONGS OF THE ROCKIES 



*'It is difficult to convey an^ just impression of 
the mountains; one might, it is true, arrange the visible 
heads in a list, stating their heights and distances, and 
leaving the imagination to furnish them with peaks and 
pinnacles, to build the precipices, polish the snoTV, 
rend the glaciers, and cap the highest summits ivith 
appropriate clouds.** 

— John Tyndall. 



Songs of the Rockies 



•By 



CHARLES EDWIN HEWES 



Decorations 

BY 

Dean Babcock 




THE EGERTON -PALMER PRESS 

Estes Park, - Colorado 



All rights reserved 



Copyright 1914 
By Charles Edwin Hewes 



AUG 21 1914 



CI.A379182 




There is but one 

In all this world 
Who hath my soul 

Most tender stirred; 
And these wild songs. 

Writ the peaks among, 
I, as flowers 

Proff' ed by a lover. 
Place at the feet 

Of that One, my Mother; 
And next to her. 

My. dear beloved Brother. 

C. E. H. 



Elkanah Valley, 
Estes Park, 
April II. 1914. 



VII 



THE Longs Peak oberlandt and the region close- 
ly associated with it, includes both slopes of 
the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, 
from the Arapahoes on the south to Flat Top on the 
north, including the connecting Mummy and Medicine 
Bow ranges and the Continental Divide to the Rabbit 
Ears. 

Seen from Estes Park and the Great Plains on the 
east, and from the floors and west rims of Middle and 
North Parks, the great mountain appears as a huge 
central mass supported by vast ranges on the north and 
south. In reality, the peak is on a short spur range a 
mile east of the Continental Divide, but this separat- 
ing distance is so slight as to be imperceptible when 
the range is viewed en masse. 

Two of the four large interstate rivers rising in 
Colorado, the Platte and the Colorado, find their 
sources in this region; the former, not only receives 
an immense flood from the tributary Boulder, St. 
Vrain, Thompson and Poudre streams, but is also 
greatly augmented by the splendid flow of the North 
Platte, streaming northward into Wyoming. 

The three great parks — Middle, North and Estes, 
all head in the close vicinity of the lofty summit of the 
American Matterhorn — Longs Peak. 



VIII 




CONTENTS 

Page 

Estes Park — My Colorado Queen 1 

The Mountain Brook 2 

Worship 3 

Song Of The Quaking Asp 5 

The Heavenly Blush 5 

You Looked Fairest In The Hills 7 

Grand Lake 9 

'Deed, It Seemed Nice To Have The Cabin 

Chuck Full Of Tobacco Smoke Again H 

Yon Solitary Blue Hollow | 3 

Birds Of Passage 1 5 

Estes Park In Winter 1 6 

Longs Peak 1 9 

Rosy East 21 

Mt. Clarence King From Copeland Lake. ... 23 

Maximum Gales 25 

The Night Log 29 

The Mummy 3j 

Beautiful Isles Of Sky 32 

The Dying Thrush 33 

Val Elkanah 35 



IX 



Page 

Altitude 37 

Wild Alp Wind Roaring Up Aloft 

And Whirr Of Bluebird's Wing 39 

The Mountain Night 41 

Flat Top 43 

Yon Peak 44 

Mountain Berries 45 

The Sun Shines Bright On Lily's Mount 47 

Song Of The Trout 49 

The Peak Bird 51 

The Wild White Wilderness 52 

I Know A Place 53 

The Twin Sisters 55 

The Winged Regiment 57 

The Cabin 58 

Up! Up— Into The Blue 59 

The Fleeces 61 

The Beaver 63 

Under The Snows 67 

Winter Flight Of Ptarmigan 69 

Aspen Days Are Days Of Gold 70 

Virgin Peaks 71 

The Maid O' Cow-bell Hill 73 

Purples 76 

There Is No Border To The West 11 

The Alpenglow 79 

The Quaker's Bonny Bonnets 81 

Some Holy Day 83 

Wild Basin 85 



Page 

The Mist Dragon 89 

Spruces And Stars 9 1 

Song Of The Glow-worm 95 

Louis 97 

Back To The Hearth Of My Hut 99 

Lights Of The Vale 101 

The Saw-whet Owl 1 03 

The White Shepherd Of The Oberland 105 

The Hermit-thrush 1 09 

A Mountain Morning Gray And I To Work . . 110 

City Lights Seen From The Wilderness 113 

Ye Bright Foaming Waters Of Bounding St. 

Vrain 114 

The Guilt Of Bearing Proud Antlered Crest . . 117 
Ye Green Pines And Tall Spruces Of Wind 
River Trail 118 

In The Valley Of Elkanah— There Is Love. . 119 

Tis Moonlight On The Sisters 121 

A Thunder-cloud Issuing From The Black 

Canon 123 

Mountain Maid 125 

Love 127 

Tis Evening In The Valley Of Elkanah 128 



XI 



ESTES PARK— MY COLORADO QUEEN 



FAIR one, thy snow lords are waking 
*Neath the torches of crimson morn. 
Fair one, thy gray crags are steaming 
In the mists of the midnight storm. 
Fair one, the eagles are screaming 
A challenge to mountain hearts. 
Fair one, thy woods are ringing 
In the pipe of a thousand larks. 

Oh! Estes Park! I do love you. 
Queen of the mountains, with your skies so blue; 
Your hills and vales, your murm'ring streams. 
Your beauteous nights, when the silver moon beams. 

Fair one, I'll seek thee in rainbows, 
I'll search all thy valleys green. 
I'll hunt thee in golden sunshine. 
And chase thee in shining rain. 
I'll woo thee in purple shadows; 
And under thy white waterfalls, 
I'll clasp thee fast in the torrent — 
We'll wed where the lone ousel calls. 

Fair one, our lives shall be merry. 
Our hearts shall bound as the deer. 
That swift o'er thy meadows scamper — 
That quaff from thy fountains clear. 
And when in the evening's shadow 
My life speeds away in the gloom. 
Lay me beneath a green aspen — 
Let thy grassy slopes be my tomb. 

Oh ! Estes Park ! I do love you. 
Queen of the mountains, with your skies so blue; 
Your hills and vales, your murm'ring streams. 
Your beauteous nights, when the silver moon beams. 



A 



THE MOUNTAIN BROOK 

DAINTY daughter of the Snow am I. 
My father, the gold Sun. 

My Lord, the blue Sky. 



I was born when a Sunbeam my mother's lips kissed. 

I leaped from her bosom in a halo of mist. 

I've dashed down the mountain in my garments of 

foam. 
Toward the great Ocean, my future home. 
For the River's my husband, and together we 
Shall wind thru the rushes toward the deep sea. 

Oh, you that are thirsty, as I pass you by. 
Oh, drink of my fountain, the dew of the sky; 
Brewed on the far heights of sunlight and snow; 
Distilled 'neath the blue sky and poured here below. 
Oh, drink of my waters, each passing soul. 
Quaff from my bosom, as I toward the sea roll. 

A dainty daughter of the Snow am I. 
My father, the gold Sun. 

My Lord, the blue Sky. 



WORSHIP 



LAST glint of gold upon the hills — 
Last gleam of Day's sun glory. 
How like the summits of my soul. 
Aglow with skies so rosy, 
Of Him whose heart is the flower of life. 

Rare rose of loveliness; 
Of Him whose love is the bosom of bliss. 
Fragrant with holiness. 

And I kneel me down in that holy light. 

And press my lips to the sod. 
And I know by faith of the inner sight 

That I've kissed the hand of God. 
Last glint of gold upon the hills — 

Last gleam of Day's sun glory. 
My soul pours forth its flood of praise — 

The evening's offertory. 



The quaking asp or aspen, the principal decidu- 
ous tree of the Northern Colorado Rockies, is equally 
the favorite of the botanist and the woodsman. Long 
after the grass and florvers appear in the early spring, 
it refuses to hurst its buds, fearful of belated snows; 
but once assured, puts forth its vivid green leaves rvith 
great vigor. The tall slender trunks assume a beau- 
tiful velvety creamy bloom in the spring, rvhich to- 
gether with the dazzling leaf cover, presents a refresh- 
ing aspect of verdured beauty. It is a saying among 
the mountaineers that, '^wherever the aspens grow, 
there is good soil;*' which, however, does not always 
apply, if depth of soil is to be considered ; for this 
flourishing sylvic, which finds root-hold even at timber- 
line, often withers and dies in considerable companies, 
when it reaches the food limit of shallow soil. Once 
rooted in deep, or average, moist soil, however, and 
protected from wind, it attains considerable girth and 
height, growing side by side with spruce and pine for 
many years. It is to the aspen that the woodsman 
turns for binding sticks, in connection with his chains, 
to bind his load of poles or logs; for there is just 
enough spring in the withy green trunks, to ease the 
strdin of the load on the rough roads over which in 
part he is usually forced to travel; also to the same 
tree he turns for his brake-blocks, on account of the 
elastic fibre of its growth and its very slight wear on 
the Wagon tires. Aspen, when dried, is highly prized 
for stove wood, and if a stove is clogged from the 
use of pine, it will consume and destroy the soot and 
pitch, and thus clean the stove. In autumn, the hills, 
from the lofty heights near timber-line, down to the 
great leafy groves of the valley floors, are one bright 
blaze of gold and crimson from the frost turned leaves 
of the aspen, in vivid contrast with the dark green 
masses of the conifers. It is the aspen that furnishes 
the beaver his principal supply of dam and house ma- 
terial, and its bark i^ his main food provision. 




SONG OF THE QUAKING ASP 

THE aspens are calling the little dun deer. 
Come! Up from the valley and be with us 
here. 
Here, where the grasses are spreading their green; 
Here, where the rushes are breasting the stream. 
Come! Oh, ye bounding ones of mountain and 

heath. 
Come! Rest safe beneath me, the soft quaking leaf. 

The aspens are calling the little dun deer. 

Oh! Know ye not, loved ones, the summer is here? 
Here, where the thrushes are piping their lay; 
Here, where the roses perfume the long day. 

Come! Oh, ye coy ones, ere the autumn's in sheaf. 

Come! Sweet recline ye, 'neath the soft quaking 
leaf. 



The aspens are calling the little dun deer. 

Come! Tarry ye net, the sweet lupine is here. 
Here, where the west wind soft ripples the lake; 
Here, where the moonbeams pierce the dark brake. 

Come! Oh, ye wild ones, up from manor and fief. 

Come! Hide in the shade of the soft quaking leaf. 



THE HEAVENLY BLUSH 

THE Heavenly Blush is pressing 
Its cheeks 'gainst the mountains soft; 
Last kiss of the fading sunset. 
Pressed fond on the peaks aloft. 
Oh, lingering One, thou wringest 

A sigh from my earth-bound heart. 
For one who dwells beyond ye — 
By my ribbed flesh thus kept apart. 

Oh, Heavenly Blush, my message bear. 

As ye fade from yonder sky; 
Caressing Eve's dusky deep-murked spaces. 

As ye lambent westward ply. 
Tell her, my immortal soul is pressing 

Its red lips upon her brow: 
That our troth, divinely shining, 

But waits Death to break Life's mortal vow. 



YOU LOOKED FAIREST IN THE HILLS 



L 



OOKING back, dear Heart, it seems to me 
You looked fairest in the hills. 
Back in that rarest summer spent 
Beside the alpine rills. 



*Twas June — You well remember. Love, 
Those effulgent nights of Moon, 

That bathed the Vale in glory-light. 
And set the world atune. 

We wandered — Ah, Love, you blush to tell; 

How far those flowering glades. 
We lingered — Ah, 'till Morn's first 

Dew-kist hour we sweetly strayed. 

Nymph, you were — a naiad blushing rare. 

And I, gath'ring roses fair. 
Keen envied their soft leaves nestling 

In the clusters of your hair. 

Let's go back, dear Heart, this summer day. 

To those same beloved hills. 
I'll woo your cheeks to roses back 

Beside the alpine rills. 



Grand Lak^, in Middle Park* the source of the 
Colorado River, is the largest natural body of water 
in the State of Colorado, being about two miles in 
length and one wide; it is also probably the deepest, 
soundings of over 700 feet having been obtained. It 
lies at an altitude of about 8,000 feet, in the lap of 
comparatively low, densely wooded mountains, with 
the towering Continental Divide seen dimly thru the 
deep gorges of the North and East Inlets, and the 
beautiful Rabbit Ear range to the northwest, visible 
from mid-lake and the south shore. Row, sail, and 
motor boating, fishing and bathing, are the sports of 
the numerous summer guests of the village hotels. 



GRAND LAKE 

RAND Lake! 

Beauteous Mother of the River 
That in CaHfornia land 
Pours its flood of crystal water 
From the Valley of the Grand. 
Rio Colorado — 

Born of Rocky Mountain snows. 
Rio G)lorado — 
To the far Pacific flows. 

Spruce-rimmed Basin ! 

The meeting place of gorges. 

Vast, stupendous — 
Between mountains dim and 

Misty high beyond — 
With wide extended beaver flats. 

Canals and hutted pond. 

Abysmal Cistern! 

Walled with dizzy fathoms 

Of moss-grown granite. 
Rising ghostly from 

Subterranean steeps; 
As columned cities seen dimly 

In Ocean's vasty deeps. 

Blue-recessed Grot! 

Of snows — which, falling 

From the blue empyrean 
In whitest fleece, and 

Melted by the Sun, 
Again take on the color 

Of the sky in thy bosom. 



Flashing Inlets! 

North and East — ^pouring. 

Eternal, their crystal flood 
Into the waters of 

This shining pool; 
Drawn from the melting ices of 

The Alp-land's glaciers cool. 

Ambrosial Teat! 

The Outlet— of this 

Mothering breast, which 
Bears and feeds the 

Mighty Colorado River, 
Rushing seaward thru the 

Arizona land, its water. 

Grauid Lake! 

Beauteous Mother of the River 
That in California land 
Pours its flood of crystal water 
From the Valley of the Grand. 

Rio Colorado — 

Born of Rocky Mountain snows. 

Rio Colorado — 

To the far Pacific flows. 



10 



'DEED, IT SEEMED NICE TO HAVE THE 
CABIN CHUCK FULL OF TOBAC- 
CO SMOKE AGAIN 

THE four came, to my hermitage retreat. 
Out of the deep snows and the bleak wind's 
beat; 
Full into the glare of the big fireplace. 
Casting in red bronze each deep weathered face. 
Men of the howling wilderness were they. 
In the Nation's wide forests holding sway. 
Forest rangers, tho filled with Nature's ken. 
Yet keen to enjoy the good cheer of men. 
To the supper I called them. They fell to. 
With zest that only wolves and woodsmen know. 
When thru, with story and joke, and puff and pull. 

Their four pipes went at it then. 
'Deed, it seemed nice to have the cabin chuck full 

Of tobacco smoke again. 




11 



Isabella L. Bird-Bishop, the celebrated English 
traveler, who visited Estes Park JTom September to 
December in 1873; and who so graphically de- 
scribes her experiences there, in her book, A Lady*s 
Life in the Rocky Mountains, refers to Estes Park 
as ''that solitary blue hollow.'* 



12 



YON SOLITARY BLUE HOLLOW 

FROM yon solitary blue hollow. 
Rimmed by ice-breathed, snow-beaked bergs 
And misty — douched with shining rain. 
Emerges — nude, dripping, exultant 

And gold-tressed — diaphanous Summer. 



In yon solitary blue hollow. 

Rumbling in deep sky-ward surge. 
From wall to wall — and then again. 
Echoes far — loud, crashing, hail-glinting 

And cloud-massed — hoarse mutt'ring Thunder. 



On yon solitary blue hollow, 

Slashed in cloistered aisles by vale and gorge. 
Deep nessed with mist wet cliffs, 
Glittering — bursts, flaming, gold-limbed Sun; 

And Rainbow, its guled arch uplifts. 



From yon solitary blue hollow. 

Sunk in the cooled, dew-laved lap of Night, 
And songed with soughing pines. 
Rises full — the 'fulgent, mellow Moon; 

Which, gorgeous — in lunar glory shines. 

In yon solitary blue hollow. 

Flower perfumed, purple Pool of Sky, 
Swims crimson Dawn and Day; 
And Evening, swift veiling western hills. 

Her rubied gems sets in array. 

In yon sohtary blue hollow 

Broods the Great Spirit of the Crag Land, 
In its vol'tile Burg of Air; 
Which, towering to infinite heights. 

Falls shattered — yet ever doth repair. 



13 



The mountaineer on the east slope of the Rockies 
observes the flight of man^ strange and beautiful 
feathered folk — often to him wholly unknown and 
unidentified — at the various stages of spring; flying 
northivard along the Range, with that mad-pulsing, 
swift, migratory flight, described so inimitably by 
Audubon. Even in the dead of night he hears their 
strange wild cries, as they wing close over his cabin 
roof; also he sees them at times flit across the full 
moon; and occasionally, when fierce blizzards prevail 
at night, they hurl themselves against the windows, 
attracted and blinded by the light. Sometimes they 
stop and hastily feed, and the alp dweller finds his 
habitation suddenly surrounded by hundreds of north 
bound birds, eagerly snatching at those bits of food 
and seeds, which the fierce winds of winter have bur- 
ied in the deep drifts, and which the sun now merci- 
fully releases for their benefit. 



14 



BIRDS OF PASSAGE 

O'ER the wintry mountains they fly — they fly. 
Birds of passage, 'cross the sky. 
And they sing to me as I sigh — I sigh. 
Of the flowers a-coming bye and bye. 

They fly 'cross the March moon, so white — so white. 

Birds of passage, thru the night. 
Whirring their eager wings so hght — so light. 

Spreading the gladness of Summer's dehght. 

They're breasting the azure, so pure — so pure. 

Birds of passage, swift and sure. 
A-singing to drear lands, "Endure — endure! 

We're the gay songsters of Spring's overture." 

They're seeking the northland, afar — afar. 

Birds of passage, toward polar star. 
Bidding the drifted snows, ''Beware — beware! 

For the spring Sun's mounting his golden car." 

Fly on, ye blessed ones, so sweet — so sweet. 

Birds of passage, fair to meet. 
The dwellers of far lands. Oh, greet — Oh, greet. 

With that joy thou hast given me complete. 



15 



ESTES PARK IN WINTER 

IN winter, by the wondrous brush craft 
Of Nature fair fashioning the view, 
The matchless amphitheatre is pasteled 

White and blue — the Delften hue. 
Its floor, which in summer's spangled gay with flowers. 

Is sanded now with virgin snows. 
And those thousand flying buttresses. 

Pine verdured, ascending in rock sculptured rows. 
From park floor, to those snow crowned heights 

That firm support the vaulted dome of heaven. 
Are changed from their fresh green to blue. 

And soft merge with the deep empyrean. 
In this vast auditorium, clouds, fine mists. 

And vapors, stage vistas present — rare! 
Shifting day and night scenes for Pein's finest dramas. 

Played to light responsive air. 



Jay and chickadee lend animate hfe. 

With cottontail and snow-shoe fleet. 
And the beaver, hutted in his willow and asp fringed 
pool. 

Fast icebound, sleeps. 
Oft-times, stag and doe bound 'cross open glades. 

And disappear in cedar hedges. 
Magpies aeroplane in careening flight. 

And bighorn browse 'mong sun-warmed ledges. 
Winds, bleak and chill, in high carnival 

'Mong the upper passes, roar and welter; 
And at times, in Park itself, fierce biting. 

Drive both man and beast to shelter. 
Clear and cold moonlit nights 

A fairy land of magic frost enchantment bring; 
And bright days, e'en in deep midwinter. 

Promise sweet the coming charms of spring. 



16 



The unseen river yet preserves its meand'ring form 

In snow-crusted ice. 
And the elephantine Continentals 

Dark lower 'neath their vizored eyes; 
Or on sunny days, glittering transcendent 

From fair, storm forgotten skies. 
As mailed knights, in full regalia for battle. 

Or rite to solemnize. 
Stand rank on rank, with the assembled host 

Of the gleaming Medicine Bow, 
Whose wild leagues of wintry rampart. 

Vigilant guard, their shining arms bestow. 
While towering Longs, 'neath his boss of eternal snow. 

Helmed in glory stands; 
The Sov' reign Lord and Chief 

Of all the white plumed legion of the Oberland. 




17 



Longs Peak, altitude 14,255 feet, the cloud mon- 
arch of the Northern Colorado Rockies, is one of the 
most celebrated mountains of the world; and is par- 
ticularly) noted for its attraction to both foreign and 
native professional mountain climbers, as affording a 
genuine test of their prowess, being wholly inaccessible 
to other than pedestrians. It is kf^own to foreigners 
as the '^American Matterhorn,'' from the fact that like 
its famous namesake, the Matterhorn of the Pennine 
Alps, altitude 14,703, its summit is an obelisk, altho 
more cubed and not sharply pointed. From the east 
this feature is hardly noticeable, but from the west, 
north, and south, it is verp striking; in fact, from 
Flat Top and south on the Continental Divide on the 
Grand Lake trail, its aspect is truly formidable, and 
Would seem to utterly defy the most intrepid moun- 
taineer. By a curious coincidence, the first record of 
its attempted ascent, made by W. N. Byers in J 864, 
Was almost identical with similar efforts made on the 
Matterhorn in Switzerland: the latter, however, was 
finally conquered in J 865 by Whympers party, cost- 
ing the lives of four of its members; while Longs was 
successfully and safely assaulted by the persistent 
Byers and his friends in 1 868. 

Ml Meeker, an immediate neighbor of Longs and 
second only to it in altitude (13,900) as the loftiest 
peak of Northern Colorado, also bears a striking re- 
semblance to the famous Swiss peak, ihe Weisshorn, 
altitude 14,803, said by many to be the noblest peak 
of the Alps, and a close neighbor of the Matterhorn; 
and whose first ascent in 1861, is so graphically de- 
"^ scribed by John Tyndall. Both the Weisshorn and 
Meeker are pyramids, each having three faces, and 
in this respect bear great resemblance. The sharp 
apex of Meeker scarcely more than allows the occu- 
pancy of but one person, while Longs, altho very 
roughly surfaced, has an area of several acres. 



18 



LONGS PEAK 

THOU! 
With thy snowy robes 
And Head of Glory! 

Mighty Matterhorn ! 
Emerge in thy supernal beauty 

From the cave of Night, 
As Day pours the scarlet blood of Dawn 

O'er thine altars white. 
Thus, with the sacrificial rite of Morn, 

The great Oberland is wakened; 
TTie Starry Hosts their torches snuff. 

And swift the Loft of Heaven do ascend. 
Comes now the Sun, who crowns thy lofty brow 

With gHtt'ring gold; 
And names thee Sov' reign Lord 

O'er legioned peaks and ranges bold. 

Thou! 

With thy snowy robes 

And Head of Glory ! 

Inarticulate One! 
On which a thousand tempest driving ages 

Fade as a breath. 
And ne'er in a million stone-gnawing years 

Will suffer death. 
Thine is the awful sovereignty 

Of Silence dumb — 
Creation's birth-cries congealed 

Stone and granite become. 
To which the plunging avalanches. 

Thundering down thy riven slopes. 
Are but the sweat-drip of constricting muteness, 

Throttling Expression's hopes. 



19 



Thou! 

With thy snow^ rob^s 

And Head of Glory ! 

God-hewn Obehsk! 
Reign on. Serenity, above the canopied clouds, 

To thine appointed end; 
And thru the abysmal eons of Time, 

With storm, earthquake, and frost still contend. 
Vcist, Promethean-bound pile. 

Yet clank the unyielding chains of Gravity. 
And when at last, for the fashioning of other worlds. 

Loosed from captivity. 
Explode, each unpopped granule of thy huge disin- 
tegrating mass. 

To finest dust — 
Screaming the pent-up agony of the urmumbered years. 

And scatt'ring nebulous. 



20 



ROSY EAST 

ACROSS the dim streaked sky she comes; 
Queen of my heart — the Glory Maid. 
Her Titianed tresses bright she combs. 
And soft the winds her robes invade. 
I love you — love you ! 
Maid of Dawn, 
Rosy East. 

The dewy morn smells sweet of rose. 
The sky-lark flies to greet my Love. 
The mountains flush their gleaming snows. 
And low coos now the wakened dove. 
I love you — love you ! 
Blushing One, 

Rosy East. ^ 

Blushed to thy lips, ye beauteous One, 
Thy kisses woo and wake the world ; 
And for the wreck of storms atone, 
TTiat thru the night wild winds have hurled. 
I love you — love you ! 
Kiss me sweet. 
Rosy East. 

Embrace me. Love, before the Sun's stern eye 
Doth rim the mountain dark and mount the sky. 
Embrace me. Love. Press close thy rosy form 
About me myrrhed — And then, farewell — She's gone. 
I love you — love you ! 
Speed return. 
Rosy East. 



21 



At the entrance of Wild Basin, as the great up- 
per gorge of the North St. Vrain is familiarly t"on>n, 
and at a point where the State road crosses the above 
named stream, lies Copeland Lake, one of the beauty 
spots of the Front Range of the Rockies. It is a 
small but beautiful bod}) of water surrounded b^ a 
forest of fellow pine, and is famous for its perfect 
reflection of the great central peak of the Basin — Mt, 
Clarence King, named b^ William Skinner Cooper 
when he made the first authentic map of the Basin in 
1908; in honor of the first director of the United 
States Geological Survey, who ran the 40th parallel 
of latitude a few miles to the south of this Peak. 



22 



MT. CLARENCE KING FROM COPELAND 
LAKE 

BEETLING Order! 
Vast bulked and reared — 

Above thy shaggy taurian haunches — 
Against the Continental range. 
Snow headed Bull of Wild Basin's 
Horned alp herd — wild, chill winds 
Bellow thine eternal challenge. 

Brooding Ortler! 

Deep sunk in the dusky starred distances 

Of the all embosoming Night — 
Soft repose thine alpine beauty till the 

Morn beams its golden glory light ; 
Then, lifting high thy snowy head above 

The mist streaming pastures of the skies. 
Peer, with glist'ning horn, into this mirroring 

Pool, thy flushed dawn-awakened eyes. 



23 



The predominate force in winter in the Longs 
Peak oberland is Boreas. Ordinary) gales, of from 
twenty to sixt^ miles per hour, sometimes hloTi> for 
days at a time and are little thought of. However, 
perhaps from four to six times a year, and from Oc- 
tober till May, occur — what are termed by the moun- 
taineers — maximum gales, meaning winds that attain 
extreme maximum velocities, and which reach a force 
of sixty miles an hour and upwards. 

The greatest wind velocity on record in Colorado, 
filed in the office of the U. S. Weather Bureau in 
Denver, is that made in J 893 on the summit of Pikes 
Peak — /^2 miles per hour; and from the fact that 
records as high as 79 miles per hour have been made 
at the Agricultural College in Fort Collins on the 
Great Plains, it is quite probable that in the moun- 
tains, depending upon the altitude and exposure, these 
maximum gales attain at times, the frightful velocity 
of WO miles per hour. 

The greatest wind velocities on record in the 
United States, are those recorded in the files of the 
U. S. Weather Bureau in Washington, D. C, and 
are as follows: 

Cape Hatteras, N. C .... 105 miles per hour. 

Pikes Peak, Colo 112 " '* *' 

Point Reyes Light, Cal. . 120 " 

Mt. Washington, N. H..J86 " " " 

The latter record, made on the summit of Mt. 
Washington, N. H. (altitude 6,290 feet), January 
J I, 1878, was not obtained from a self-recording 
apparatus, but from an anemometer exposed tempor- 
arily, and the velocity determined from the dial read- 
ings, and is considered approximately correct. Upon 
another occasion, January 3, 1883, and at the same 
station, a velocity of 180 miles Was clearly recorded. 



24 



MAXIMUM GALES 

HIGH on the polared rim of western peaks 
The flying of Hght snow — 
As off the house eaves it in winter sifts 
Driv' by the bhzzard's blow — 
Gives warning to the shepherd's anxious eye, 

Of gale quick to expect — 
Fiercest venom of war-mad Boreas 
Mustering his elect. 

Soon the upper nfiked slopes are welt* ring 

In vast swirls of the icy dust ; 
And first faint tremors of timber-line trees 

Give witness of descending gust. 
Wild now — steep-sloped, and sharp, tooth-snagged 

Meeker"^ writhes in the fury of the gale ; 
And the white shoulders of quiv'ring Battle"^ 

Shudder, as 'fore the blast they quail. 

Come now, the first keen shrieks of agony 

From the far woodland's upper ranks. 
As the dread monster, scourging pack and steed. 

Bursts foamed upon the deep wood's flanks. 
And as the blood-curdling note of dire conflict 

Sounds weird from the gnarled vet'rans of timber- 
line. 
The whole defiant, strong-limbed forest yells 

In battle fury, and its ranks combine. -^ 

When all his maliced fuming regiments. 

Full accoutered and fierce, are thus engaged, 
The bellowing Wind Lord — as one hurls bowls — 

From topmost heights, darts whirls, in his mad rage. 
That ever gaining speed, rend serried ranks 

Of combatants, as cannon-shot mow men; 
And which, gathering in their cycloned flight 

Fine snow, fling it in clouds as they descend. 



* Prominent peaks oi the Longs Peak reKion. 



25 



When these mnds coincide with n>et or frost 
seeping ground, the trees, having less secure root- 
hold in the soft soil, are uprooted in whole rows and 
ranks. 

Also the settler, being forced to maintain heav]) 
fires to counteract the cold being driven with terrific 
suction thru every chink and crevice of his habitation, 
is more or less terrorized b\) the danger of fire; which, 
when once started, his efforts of slight avail against the 
fury of the wind, destroys his cabin with frightful 
ravage, forcing him to flee for his life into the howl- 
ing elements outside. 



26 



TTiree fearful surging wave crests, like Ocean, 

Surfing madly on reef and stagg'ring shore, 
Descend in constant pounding succession. 

And break upon the wood with deaf'ning roar. 
Vast, strangling vacuums scream and serpent hiss. 

As they, in wild writhing spirals eddy. 
Like whirling Dervishes ; swerving off in 

Weird fantastic tangent, and unsteady. 
As eerie phantoms, swoon in blinding snow. 

Tearing and stripping tree boughs as they go. 
Aerial wind bombs, explode and burst. 

As tho rending the atmosphere in fragments; 
And frightful pauses hover, as tho a foe 

Pushed back, poises for resistless augment. 
Wind whiffs, as gut-tasseled whips that flay, crack — 

Pistol-like, at the instant touch of impact. 

Death embraced now, the frenzied warriors 

Weave to and fro on every snow whirled slope. 
The Vale, from highest wind-lashed crag to low. 

Mews and sickens as the heaved armies cope. 
Limbs, trunks, and vitals smoking, strew the ground. 

Where Boreas' spleened legions fiercest melled; 
And low drooped, the wailing forest conquered 

Bends sullen 'neath the spoiler's storm-wrecked 
spell. 

The devoted Hut, the one lone fortress 

TTiat still defies the air careening crew, 
Tho shaking vibrant in the awful mell. 

Yet pours its smoke defiant thru its flue. 
Inside — the forest here claims victory. 

By its pitched logs flaming in deepest roar; 
And its red fires, leaping forth exultant. 

Seize beard of Boreas and bum him sore. 



27 



Deep in sand and gravel he digs his claws. 

And it in fury flings upon the glass. 
At eave and pane in vain he gasping tugs. 

To ope' and scatter hut in broken mass. 
But stout it w^restles sturdy, and at last 

He from it headlong, daunted, doth him cast, 
And turns, envenomed, once more on landscape 

TTie enraged mouthings of his cruel blast. 

Hours, sometimes days, of this nerve-racked weather. 

Doth the far dweller in the mountains live. 
Cramming his hottest fires with stoutest logs, 

To subdue the cold arctic breaths that drive 
E'en thru smallest cracks in deep weathered slab, 

That close, double-lapped, hold the windward 
walls. 
When thru — the dread conflicting el'ments still — 

He on his cot oft quite exhausted falls. 

Maximum Gales! Oh, how modest the tale 

To soft ears, that ne'er kenned the fearful blast. 
Swirled — ^world-high tides, one hundred miles an 
hour — 

The dread winds of winter on cabin cast; 
Tuned to all noises diabolical. 

That tooth-grinding crazed Boreas can gnash; 
And embittered Winter, fury consumed 

By thoughts of Spring's nighsome 'proach, can 
compass. 



Sweet tho, the ineffable stillness 

That steals somnolent o'er the battered land; 
When once the blasting fury of the winds 

Hath sunk to the soft zephyr, kissing hand. . 
And true it is, that they who've dared, and climbed. 

And nested, pure, among these lofty heights, 
Tho bearing in their souls the wounds of battle. 

Yet live knowing — Oh, sweetest thought — God 
requites ! 



28 



THE NIGHT LOG 

THE night log is on and aflame. 
The one lone fire of many a mountain mile. 
Star of the wilderness — Men to reconcile. 
And I, musing, breathe many a sacred name. 

The night log is on and aflame. 

One red fire, sparking the hours of the passing night. 

Sign to other worlds of a universalite. 
And I, musing, breathe many a sacred name. 

The night log is on and aflame. 

The lone wolf at midnight sounds his hungry howl. 

Weird from the gloomy wood hoots the hunting 
owl. 
And I, musing, breathe many a sacred name. 

The night log is on and aflame. 

Morn's angels, star crowned, have set their glitter- 
ing watch. 
Fast the wide wheeling constellations westward 
march. 
And I, musing, breathe many a sacred name. 

The night log is on and aflame. 

And I, musing, breathe many a sacred name 

Of them who battled dauntless with the World's dis- 
dain. 

And mingle now their glory bright with Heaven's 
train. 




29 



One of the most interesting nature sculpturings in 
Estes Park i^ k^^orvn as the Mummy. The face is 
visible from almost every view point in the Park, a"^ 
Tvhen once fairly distinguished, the eye reverts to it 
with ever increasing fascination. It occupies a promi- 
nent space in the sky-line on the northwest rim of the 
Park, <^nd forms a portion of Hagues Peak- A con- 
stant change of expression is to be noticed in the weird 
countenance as the snows begin to melt in the spring, 
and clouds, mists, moonshine, sunlight, and shadow, 
continually affect it. 



30 



THE MUMMY 

BEHOLD! 
The Mummy ! 

Inscrutable countenance ! 
Forever staring askance 
Of relentless sky. 

Calm eyed. 
Benign Face! 

We deem you beautiful. 

Gazing, brave — steadfastful. 
On eternity. 

Star jew'lled. 
Queenly Head! 

Bridal veiled 'mong fleecy mist. 

Sleeping — dream of lips you've kissed. 
Dead — let them also die. 



3] 



BEAUTIFUL ISLES OF SKY 

I AM sitting alone 
By my wild mountain home, 
And my heart ever yields a sigh; 
As I gaze on those clouds, 
High above the world crowds. 
Beautiful Isles of Sky. 

They are drifting today 

On that far azure way; 

And my dreams ever rise on high ; 

To those mansions so bright 

In the regions of light. 

Beautiful Isles of Sky. 

Deep the low setting sun 

Turns them gold and crimson ; 

My thoughts turn to hopes as they ply. 
Oh, fair ships of the air. 

My fond fancies ye bear. 
Beautiful Isles of Sky. 

Some sweet day I will speed 
On some air-winging steed; 

To this world I will say goodbye; 
And float over the seas 

In my Palace of Ease. 
Beautiful Isles of Sky. 

They are drifting today 

On that far azure way; 

And my dreams ever rise on high; 

To those mansions so bright 

In the regions of light. 

Beautiful Isles of Sky. 



32 



THE DYING THRUSH 

NEVER more thy song will gladden 
Verdured dales of stream and wood. 
Never more thy pipe will waken 
Summer's lang'rous flow' ring mood. 
Bird of Joy ! My heart is breaking. 

And my tears flow fast in flood. 
Oh, ye drooping dying songster. 

Know by these sob«, thou wert loved. 

Cruel Hawk, that swooped so ruthless 

From the bright and sunny sky; 
Could ye've known whose throat ye throttled- 

Known what lovely warbler lies. 
Bleeding now, among the grasses. 

On the green and mossy sward; 
Ye'd have stayed thy steely talons — 

Listened sweet, with rev' rent bard. 

How like. Oh God, Thy fair children. 

In this quick and mortal world. 
Innocent, in laughing gladness. 

In the arms of Death are hurled ! 
Dying TTirush, thy bosom softly 

'Gainst my aching heart I press; 
Token that there's one who loves thee — 

Who thy torn form doth caress. 



33 



The Vale of Elkanah lies on the State road mid- 
wa}) between Aliens Park ^"^ Estes Park- It is sur- 
rounded h^ lofty mountains and has an elevation of 
about 9,000 feet and thru it winds the historic trail 
to the summit of Longs Peak- It abounds with bird 
and animal life, and is celebrated for its beautiful 
flowers and also for its magnificent cloud and atmos- 
pheric effects. It was originally settled by the Rev. 
E. J. Lamb and family in 1874, who established the 
first hotel there; and was named in honor of Mr. 
Lamb, bearing his first name ''Elkanah'' meaning 
**possessed or loved of Cod.'' 



34 



m 


^ 




— 1»- 


«wi«-« 




I?* 


BS 








-^— c 




«^ 












"" 




^ 






^^^H 


tH 


■fll 


■V 



VAL ELKANAH 

WEST and solitary reigns the cloud king — Longs, 
As a crowned lord on high. 
And east, low at his feet, the two Sisters 
Bare their chaste bosoms to the sky. 
Between them lies the God loved Vale, 

Green, rose-scented, fair-smiling as the morn — 
Filled with blooming nymphs and naiads fair. 
Dancing to Pan's pipe and elfin horn. 

On northern rim the virgin peak — 

Lily's clustering crags — 
Rise nut-brown above her mirrored lake 

Fringed with waving flags. 
The Cone, majestic — savanMike, 

Most perfect of mountain piles. 
Doth also rim upon the north 

The Vale's fair emblossomed smiles. 

Between the Cone and Longs' dread brow 

Lie Battle's corse strewn slopes; 
Of tree, and bush, and grasses slain — 

Storm-crushed of Life's fair hopes. 
Still south, our Lady Washington 

Sits white amid her snows ; 
And Meeker, 'cross the vast East Gorge, 

His wild and bleak wind blows. 



35 



Of lesser heights, Horsetooth, on Meeker's side, 

Rears a mighty rock. 
And The Lookout, farther on. 

Beholds Wild Basin's shagg'd alp flock. 
Pine Ridge, a grand green slope. 

Lies next to fire-scarred Mills Moraine. 
And Deer Ridge, to the far southeast. 

Bounds on the North St. Vrain. 

The water-gate to this beauteous realm 

Southerly far swings, 
Past Big Owl's mystic, pine-clad hill, 

And to the deep gorge clings. 
Of St. Vrain's foamed and bounding flood 

Of many glacier rills — 
Gorged to the choke and lashed to the froth, 

'Mong the plainward hills. 

Thus Val Elkanah, enthroned and crowned 

Among her snowy lords, 
Lists forever to the Hymn of Nature 

Sung in purest chords. 
An Eden of the Rockies, 

She woos man's subtlest nature sense. 
And decked with all her flow'ring robes, 

Yields Flora's sweetest incense. 



36 



ALTITUDE 

He, As when, from the heights. 

Mid wastes of rock and snow. 

One views among the mists 

The distant Vale below; 

All lovely, green, and smiling. 

In the tender alpenglow: 

So I view Thee, 

From my solitude of years; 

And yearning — reach for Thee, 

In the sob of sighs and tears. 

She. As when, from the depths, 
A noble Peak I view. 
Cloud-kissed, snow-crowned. 
And bathed in a golden hue; 
Fulfilling all those fair ideals 
I've centered. Love, in You: 
So I view Thee, 

Lifting mine arms toward Thine; 
And wond'ring — how long, dear Heart, 
Till they with Thine entwine. 

Poei. Altho 'tis not with beautiful valleys, 
As it is with beautiful souls; 
A-sighing and yearning for heights above 

them. 
The heights longing for depths below; 
Yet sometimes I think, in anguish of heart, 
'Tis the same with us, as the peaks we have 

viewed : 
The mystery of lives oft kept apart. 
Is merely a difference of altitude. 



37 



The wild, joyous, skv-^ounting twitter, and musi- 
cal whirr-whirr of dazzling blue wing, with which the 
Rockv Mountain bluebird ushers in the mountain 
spring, is gloriously welcome to the alp dweller. 
Often, so rapid is its flight, that while its motion eludes 
the eye, yet it is distinguished by the sound of its ^een 
whirring wings. From copse to copse, tree to tree, 
crag to crag, this beautiful songster flies, long before 
the great winter drifts are melted; and his zest of pos- 
session seems to be wholly unsatiated, until he encom- 
passes with his twittering presence, every loved ledge, 
nook ^^d spot in the lower and middle oberland. After 
the nesting and brooding season is passed, and the 
young brood is strong of wing, whole families of them 
flock together in joyous autumn flight, often accom- 
panying the pedestrian or other road traveler for long 
distances, as tho delighting in his company; and they 
linger long, until finally driven out by the k^en blasts 
of winter. 



38 



WILD ALP WIND ROARING UP ALOFT 
AND WHIRR OF BLUEBIRD'S WING 

THE wind with wild exultant gusts and shrieks 
Leaps into the Vale from among the peaks. 
And eager now he is, to slay the snow. 
As he in winter was, it wide to blow. 
With shredding tooth and tusk into the drifts 
He bites his way ; and each sunbeam shifts. 
As a blow-pipe of golden ray to smelt. 
The frozen fleece to aqua's melt ; 
Which everywhere in tiny rills seeks 
To find its way and run into the creeks. 

Exultant then. 

Wild alp wind roaring up aloft 
And whirr of bluebird's wing 
Proclaim the passing of the snow, 
And the coming reign of Spring. 

The greens of grass now appear and merge 

Their bright blades with the shining waters surge. 

And the tender shoots of wind-stirring pine 

Into the balmy air and sun incline. 

The buttercup and bee sweet alyssum 

First peep — then the silken pasque flower comes. 

The catkins of the canaried willow. 

Fluff and tassel, as they fat plumpy grow. 

The sparkling blue of beaver ponds 'fleet sky; 

Their dams are fringed with white violets shy. 

Exultant then. 

Wild alp wind roaring up aloft 
And whirr of bluebird's wing 
Proclaim the passing of the snow. 
And the coming reign of Spring. 



The peaks no longer blanch in drifting snow. 

But iced, transcendent ghtter and bestow 

Their sun-glint glances on the vales below. 

And bid the alpine herbs take root and grow. 

When the first warm slants of sun-steaming rain 

Douche the brown, seed-sown mountain lands again, 

A myriad of elfin things appear, 

TTiat later, as the mounting sun draws near. 

Will bud and burst in flower blossoms rare. 

And all the summer deck the meadows fair. 

Exultant then. 

Wild alp wind roaring up aloft 
And whirr of bluebird's wing 
Proclaim the passing of the snow. 
And the coming reign of Spring. 




40 



THE MOUNTAIN NIGHT 

DEEP! 
In the vast canopy of Night 
Fade the peaks. 
Perched! 

As birds of Titan might 
With breast hid beaks. 

Mighty Mother! 

All embracing One 

Of Sleep's delight; 

With tender eyes soft glowing — 

Embered coals of Hght: 
Let me sink too 
In slumber sweet 
On thy gentle breast; 
And silent droop as these far heights. 

In dreamless rest. 



41 



Mr. Chapin, in 1887, speaks of the great flat- 
topped mountain, across which leads the trail between 
Estes and Middle Parks, as Table Mountain; hut it 
has, in more recent y^ears, been familiarly k^oTvn b}) 
the verp appropriate cognomen of Flat Top, altitude 
(estimated) 12,400. There is probably^, and aside 
from its great importance as an absolutely) command- 
ing mountain pass, no more interesting alp in the Rock- 
ies than this peerless mountain; which resembles noth- 
ing so much as a gigantic, flat roofed, architectural 
pile, buttressed with enormous connecting bastions and 
wings of solid masonry. The tundra verdured, rock 
strewn, and comparatively level summit of this alpine 
leviathan, is many miles in area; and one can actually 
spend days in the examination of its various connec- 
tions with the four great ranges mentioned in the 
poem, to say nothing of noting that myriad animate 
life which swarms its dizzy walls and canons. Such 
localities as the charming lake region of Fern and 
Odessa; Andrews and Tyndall glaciers; Bierstadt and 
Bear Lakes; and the Big Meadow, and North Inlet 
regions on the Western Slope, are all mere details in 
the vast ramifications of Flat Top. On the West 
slope, one enters timber-line immediately among some 
of the largest and finest spruces in the Rockies; while 
on the East slope, are miles of the most dwarfed, 
gnarled, and storm battered timber-line growth im- 
aginable; affording a contrast most striking and sug- 
gestive. 

The marvel of such alpine wilds as Flap Top, is 
greatly accentuated, when one realizes, from a botani- 
cal standpoint, that the zone of vegetation — which is 
affected by altitude as well as latitude — six to four- 
teen degrees of latitude corresponding to two thousand 
feet of altitude — which one traverses in crossing its 
summit, is the sub-arctic; corresponding with thai of 
northern Labrador, Iceland, and the arctic circle. The 
zone of vegetation on our highest peaks, such as Longs, 
Meeker, and Hagues, is the arctic, corresponding with 
that of Cape Parry in Greenland, Baffin Bay, and the 
isles of the Polar Sea north of Alaska. 



42 



FLAT TOP 

FLAT TOP! 
High plateau of rendezvous 
For mighty peaks and ranges sheer: 
The massive Continentals, 
And jagged, snow-tipped Rabbit Ear; 
The curving Medicine Bow, 
And mystic Mummy, vague and weird; 
All, on this wide spreading alp 
Converge, and high assemble here. 

Great Pass! 

No alp in all the Snow Range 

Enjoys such royal sov'reignty. ^ 

Thou art an Emperor great. 

To whom snow-crowned kings yield fealty. 

Demanding toll of each foot 

That would safe cross from peak to peak. 

Or would pass from Park to Park, 

Across the Great Divide's swart beak. 

Vast Burg! 

Tundra-roofed, torrent-guttered. 

And broad eaved with eternal snow; 

Which melting, feeds deep cisterns. 

Rock-scooped in dizzy depths below. 

Porticoed on the West Slope, 

With pillared spruce in columns deep. 

And on the East, with filigree 

Of dwarfed pinelings on wind swept steep. 



43 



I 



YON PEAK 

T is only a glimpse 

Hiat I ask of yon Peak, 
As I look from my ain cottage door; 
To know that from it 

The dear Father doth speak — 
The glorious God I adore. 

r behold Him so fair 

In the rose blush of morn. 
As I look from my ain cottage door; 

Of His joy beaming day 
On the mountain just born, 

And bound for that far Western shore. 

I behold Him so pure 

In the depths of the sky. 
As I look from my ain cottage door; 

As it azures the world 

And the heavens so high — 

Oh, Holy is He evermore! 

I behold Him so vast 

In His shadow of night. 
As I look from my ain cottage door; 

As it darkens the brow 

Of the mountain so white. 

And mantles the valley high o'er. 

I behold Him so bright 

In the beam of the stars. 
As I look from my ain cottage door; 

As they glitter and wheel 

Their swift night-coursing cars. 

And His grace I humbly implore. 

So remove me not hence 

From the sight of yon Peak, 
That I see from my ain cottage door; 

For when Life's sands are low run 
To it I shall speak. 

And toward it my spirit shall soar. 



44 



MOUNTAIN BERRIES 

ON the steep and dusty road. 
As I drove up to the Peak, 

I met a red-cheeked maiden, in whose 
hands were 
Mountain berries, rare and sweet. 
As she raised her eyes to mine. 

With a glance that seemed divine. 
She coy proffered me the fruit, 
TTio her scarlet lips kept mute. 

Proffered me, even me, the lone stage driver. 
As I drove up to the Peak; 
Proffered berries, mountain berries, rare and 
sweet. 

How they lingered in my mouth. 
As her smile did in my soul ; 

Each berry rare, that had nestled in her hand 
And enjoyed its velvet fold. 
And she won my heart that day. 
Won it quite from me away; 
Won it surely and complete. 
That it almost ceased to beat. 

E'en for me, even me, the lone stage driver. 
As I drove up to the Peak ; 
Won with berries, mountain berries, rare and 
sweet. 

And they said her name was Ruth — 
Ruth, the faithful, lovely Ruth, 

Named for the sweetest woman of the Bible — 
Ruth, the gleaner, tender Ruth. 
And how now it thrills my soul. 

As when past that spot I roll. 
To know that she, even she. 

Had there gleaned the fields for me. 

E'en for me, even me, the lone stage driver. 
As I drove up to the Peak; 
Gleaned red berries, mountain berries, rare and 
sweet. 



45 



'An evening effect to be observed in the Vale of 
Elkanah, is the shining of the sun on Lil^ Mountain 
long after it has set in the Vale itself. 



46 



THE SUN SHINES BRIGHT ON LILY'S 
MOUNT 



T 



HE sun shines bright on Lily's mount 
Where soft my fancy dwells. 
I vow I'll climb her gentle slopes 
Among the wild bluebells. 



Her feet are hid in forest green 
Where springs the columbine. 

Her robes are made of shining mists 
Which soft her form entwine. 

She kneels before a mirrored pool 

And combs her golden hair; 
While all her rosy breast is filled 

With clust'ring lilies fair. 

Ah me ! Sweet wood nymph, how I sigh. 

To nestle in thine arms. 
I'd lay me down to sleep among 

Thy soft sequestered charms. 

I'd fold about me as a robe 

Thy golden tresses fair. 
I'd woo thine every dimpling blush 

And 'joy thy charms most rare. 

The sun shines bright on Lily's mount 
Where soft my fancy dwells. 

I vow I'll climb her gentle slopes 
Among the wild bluebells. 



47 



Three beautiful species of trout, rainbow, eastern 
brook, and native, the two former being importations, 
the first a native of Alaskan, Calif ornian, and Pacific 
rvaters, and the second from New England, inhabit 
and thrive in the mountain waters of Northern Col- 
orado. The rainbow haunt the lower canons, the na- 
tives the uppermost and coldest waters issuing from 
the glaciers, and the zone between is occupied b^ the 
eastern brook. 



48 



SONG OF THE TROUT 

MY song to the world is motion — 
The sheen of my body light; 
Its exquisite colors flashing. 
Thru clear waters sparkling bright. 
In the sun's effulgent glory 
I take my watery flight. 
O'er the shining sands of mountains 

Set in pebbles crystallite. 
I leap and bound ecstatic 

In the sluicing torrent's foam ; 
I glide and lurk prismatic 

In my turquoised lakelet home. 

I flash in glint impulsion 

My flexed form of rosy pearl. 
I gleam the Hymn of Ocean 

In the rifi^les' fleecy whirl. 
Beneath the willow catkins. 

And the dogwood's honeyed bud, 
I dart the waving shadows. 

And swift fleet the shallows' scud. 
I chant a sacred paean 

Of holiest devotion; 
With dolphined form and beauty. 

Voiced in seraphic motion. 



49 



A phenomenon peculiar to the Vale of Elkanah 
has been named h^ the inhabitants^ the Peak Bird; a 
remarkable cloud formation, which ivith head pointed 
towards Longs Peak <^^d body poised over the Vale 
itself, and with wide spreading pinions covering miles 
of sk}^ north and south and beautifully) feathered with 
cumulo -stratus, resembles nothing so much as a gigan- 
tic fowl At times it is headless and the body is 
merged into its wings, but often the complete birdlike 
formation is easily distinguished. Another feature of 
this interesting phenomenon is its marvelous coloring, 
being gorgeously hued at times with rose, lavender, 
and orange, the sun often forming a portion of the 
head, and when close to the rim of the cloud, radiat- 
ing the prismatic colors thru its delicate tissues. 



50 



THE PEAK BIRD 

MYSTIC fowl! Gigantic — ^vast and weird 
shape! 
Yet airy formed of light and floating cloud. 
Hovering, as the fabled Roc of old, 

Billowing leagues of mountain to o'ershroud. 

In early dawn, thy mighty mistlike wings 
Rise dim and vasty from the vapored night. 

And lofty soaring the star lamped world vault. 
Greet, morn-bedewed, the Sun-god's golden light. 

All day thy eidered bosom rides the sky. 

Tranquil swimming turquoise seas of ether. 
Below, the Continental ranges high 

Lie veiled beneath thy luminous shadow. 

You're brooding there, this afternoon, great Auk, 

Of Nature's creation, what mystery? 
To descend with the setting sun and hatch. 

By night, what wondrous egg of alchemy? 



51 



THE WILD WHITE WILDERNESS 

WHITE, funereal, spreads the winter night. 
Under the pale moon's beam. 
The pines, ghostly hooded with snows so white. 
Nod in the silent bream. 
Dark, unearthly — weird shadows shroud the sight; 

And stars do coldly gleam 
Their diamond sparks on frost-helmed, ice-mailed 
heights 
Stern wardering the scene. 

'Twould seem that a soul born of holiness. 

On wing to Paradise, 
Were soft crossing the wild white wilderness. 

To mount the silent skies. 




52 



I 



I KNOW A PLACE 

KNOW a place where fairies throng, 

In a sylvan, verdured grove; 
Where thrushes pipe their vesper song. 
And elves and wood nymphs rove. 



I know a place where orchids grow. 
And ferns most delicate and rare; 

Where the wildest winds that ever blow 
Ne'er reach this bosky dell so fair. 

I know a place where a little fawn 

Is hid by its mother deer; 
And too, where speckled beauties spawn, 

In a lakelet bright and clear. 

I know a place where a boulder rests. 
That conceals an ousel's nest; 

And where a spruce so boughed and tall. 
One there a home could neat install. 

Yet of all the spots that I love best — 
Of purest thoughts and sweetest rest. 

It is my own unworthy soul, 

Where Christ shines in His aureole. 



53 



Feiv peaks of Northern Colorado are more inspiring 
than those of the Twin Sisters, which form the eastern 
rim of Elkanah Valley, and occupy a prominent cen^ 
tral position immediately to the west of Longmont, 
Berthoud, and Loveland. 



54 



THE TWIN SISTERS 

FROM Longmont's green alfalfa plains 
To Loveland's fields of rye, 
A noble mountain rears its crest. 
And fills the western sky. 
Twin peaks of brown their heads upraise 

Into a sky serene. 
Between — a handsome saddle rests 
On heights of shining green. 

A plowman named these noble peaks. 

As from the valley's depths 
He stayed his steaming steeds anon. 

And gazed up to the heights. 
"Oh sweet repose," he sighed as oft 

As from his toil he rested; 
And gazed upon those summits grand. 

Which seemed heav'nly invested. 

And ever and afar it spread. 

This plowman's inspiration. 
"Oh sweet repose," the valleys cried — 

Whole cities sang the anthem. 
"Oh sweet repose," the maidens sing, 

As up this mount they clamber; 
Toward that gold and gleaming West 

In which their fancy wanders. 

"Oh sweet repose," the mother sighs. 

And soft her babe caresses; 
As into the rest and into the West, 

The Twin Sisters sink their tresses. 
"Oh sweet repose," cries all the soul. 

As full weary of its labors, 
It passes life — all, and letting it fall. 

Sinks soft in the tender shadows. 



55 



The wild goose of North America, in its spring 
and fall migrations, often feeds enroute, in the scores 
of reservoirs and lakes in the Great Plains region im- 
mediately adjacent to the foothills of the Rockies and 
eastivard. Occasionally^, hoivever, a flock of these 
magnificent voyagers can be seen b}) the mountaineer, 
flying directly parallel with the Main Range at alti- 
tudes of from 10,000 to 12,000 feet 



56 




THE WINGED REGIMENT 

DIM discerned. 
Thru the March eve's vap'rous dusk 
FHes the winged regiment forward. 
Led by the great gander in plumed busk. 
The troop in glory rushes northward. 

Devoted flock — 

Swift winging thus, thy Maker glorify. 

Piercing, arrow-like. 

In living point, the northern sky. 

Fly ye on. 

Exultant honking brood, to arctic tides! 

And we below — 

Viewing awesomely thy pinioned might — 

Are first inspired 

By the grandeur of the glorious sight, 

TTien sunk in deepest prayer 

To Him who guides thy flight. 



57 



Q 



THE CABIN 

TOUT little roof and hearth of stone, 
J^ Resisting firm the winter storm; 

Built of good logs from spruce-clad hills, 
Floored with tough plank from brookside mills 

Stout little roof and hearth of stone. 

Example true of sweetest home; 
E'en tho it be but nest of mouse. 

More freedom f af than royal house. 

Stout little roof and hearth of stone. 

Many a strange guest here hath roamed — 

Ye've sheltered snug and comfort warmed. 
And sped away with pleasure charmed. 

Stout little roof and hearth of stone, 

I love ye best when we're alone. 
Save for the angels who visit us. 

Praising our Lord — His holiness. 

Stout little roof and hearth of stone — 

Not that we're selfish here alone. 
But when so, the whole world is here — 

Spirits, past — present, with their cheer. 

Stout little roof and hearth of stone. 

Stand long here after I am gone. 
Stand for the truths we have confessed; 

Stand for our God and Gospel blessed. 



58 



UP! UP— INTO THE BLUE 

TT^ELOW the clouds we stand, my Love and I, 
Aj High on the mountain's side, yet far to go; 

To still attain the Great Peak's summit high, 
That stands to us as Life's uncertain goal. 

Up! Up — into the blue. 

Dear Heart, with You. 
Courage now, and forward true; 

And towards the sno\vy peak, and God — 

Our quest pursue. 

Among the clouds we grope, my Love and I, 
Lost — 'mong the mists that thick our way bestrew. 
No light, save our deathless trust, dear Lord, in You. 
Blind, we foot the steep way and onward hew. 

Up! Up — into the blue. 

Dear Heart, with You. 
Falter not, nor fear the view. 

And towards the snowy peak, and God — 

Our quest pursue. 

Above the clouds we stand, my Love and I, 
On the Great Peak's perilous summit we; 
Prone — full spent with toil on the weary way. 
Yet illumed — absolved, we kneel, adoring Thee. 

Up! Up — into the blue, 

Dear Lord, to You. 
Forsake us not, and renew 

Ever our faith in Thee, our God — 

We humbly sue. 



59 



In summer and earl^ autumn, there are man^ 
afternoons in the Vale of Elkanah, in rvhich glorious 
masses of cumuli drift in constant succession — like 
ships on the sea — from the Snow^ Range, across the 
Vale to the Twin Sisters, and on to the Great Plains. 
At sunset, the revel of color playing upon them is 
magnificent. 



60 




T 



THE FLEECES 

HE fleeces are crossing the Vale today. 
Passing the range in white array. 
Beautiful ships of sky are they. 
Breasting the blue in serenity. 



And I fancy the same of you, dear friend. 
Who, like these beautiful ships of sky. 

Have been wafted into my vale of life. 
And your loveliness fair I glorify. 

Warm red of your heart you have given me; 

Snowy white of your soul you have brought. 
And sweet reigns the spell of your purity. 

In fragrant memory, action, and thought. 

And whenever the fleeces are crossing. 
As they will when you're far away, 

ril waft my love in their bosom. 

Friend, to you, on that beautiful day. 



61 



Perhaps the most active builder in the middle 
oberland is the American beaver. Castor canadensis, 
Tvho has long enjoyed the protection of the State. In 
Horseshoe, Moraine, and Bartholf Parks, Meeker 
Basin, Grand Lake, and other points, considerable 
colonies have long been established; and their n}ork- 
ings, ancient and present, are ver\; much in evidence 
on most of the snow brooks issuing from the glaciers. 
The usual aspect of a settlement is a series of ponds, 
formed by dams made of brush, small sticks, and the 
logs of aspen — felled by the sharp incisors of the 
beaver themselves — rvhich these interesting workers 
erect at chosen points, successfully retarding the swift 
course of the stream to a sluggish flow sufficient to per- 
mit manipulation at the will of the worker. The ponds 
thus dammed and formed, are usually connected by 
the Workers with a system of canals and waterways, 
allowing free water passage to all points, often pene- 
trating to a considerable degree the bottom of a de- 
clivity or gully, which are used for the floating and 
rafting of those logs, which the animals have cut on 
the near hillside either for dam or food purposes, the 
latter consisting mostly of the bark of the aspen and 
willow. At the strategic point in their ponds, they 
erect log and mud houses with subaqueous entrances, 
which by reason of their being surrounded by water 
in the summer time and incased in ice in winter, pro- 
tect them from predatory beasts. Both Miss Bird and 
Mr. Chapin, in their respective books, make consid- 
erable mention of beaver; and ''Mountain Jim'' Nu- 
gent trapped them in considerable numbers. Tradi- 
tion indicates the presence of ancient trappers attracted 
to these parts by the beaver, and long before the times 
of the miners, when fur was the coveted spoil of the 
Western wilderness. 



62 



THE BEAVER 

IN Winter's thrall, the ice-bound 
And ponded beaver. 

In hut of mud and sticks 

Framed by his deft weaver. 
Sleeps, seal-like, upon his shelf 

Smoothly worn and low; 
Or hungered, flops in his 

'Neath hut pool of water. 
And entering canal of 

Outer pond, seeks fodder: 
Bark — stript from his stores 

Of aspen poles and willow. 
And if green soft succulence 

He craves, and fresher. 
He scours bottom of the pond 

For roots and osier. 
While, blue-arched, above his 

Little world of water. 
Vaults gleamed crystal span 

Of ice — most noble harbor; 
Which, in the outer world. 

Forms white floor of winter; 
Tread by howling coyote, wolf. 

And ravened cougar; 
Whose blood lust eyes, fierce 

On devoted hut doth hunger; 
Raging at the thought, that few 

Feet or so, just under. 
Their coveted prey, safe from cruel 

Slaughter, soft slumbers. 

By the bright sun, thru the 

Icy roof impelling 
Rays of purest gold; 

By swift waters swelling. 



63 



The wise water-worker, 

Castored beaver, peeping. 
Knows that Winter's reign is past. 

And Spring is bringing 
Wealth of flashing waters bright. 

And flood impending; 
Which means toi him labors fast 

Of hut and dam mending. 
With shiv'ring crash, the pond ice 

Roof falls, and floating, 
Sinks beneath the sun. 

To sparkling aqua melting. 
Released, the Castors, alert 

For foe close lurking. 
By night and day labor; 

And the swift stream wending. 
Is safe harnessed sure. 

To the mere point of tending. 
And presently the mother 

Beaver, glad bearing. 
Shows to her mate sleek pups; 

Who, keen water sporting. 
Splash and tumble tiny pond 

In wavelets flashing; 
And sedged canals and waterways. 

With gay dashing. 

Deep with greens of pregnant June 

Hie dams are verdured. 
The shining rippling ponds. 

Of pure snow-melts filtered. 
Brim, sapphire-sparkling, their 

Grassy rims, flower lipped; 
As bright nectar flowing 

Cups of Oceanus, 
Proff*ed to his uncle. 

Purple arching Uranus. 



64 



Tall spruce and slender pines 

TTieir reflections incline 
Into these green edged mirrors. 

Set in gold sunshine; 
And summer moons, shimmering 

In molten silver. 
Flood the breezed soft-lapping 

Pools in nocturne quiver. 
While the star-coals. 

Glowing in the ashes of Night, 
Gleam — fire eyed, into these 

Cisterns, with ruddy light. 
And sweet — thru the 'luptuous 

Season — germ, birth, grov^h — 
The shy Castor's isled 

Castle and flooded moat 
Resound with glad songs 

Of nesting and brooding bird; 
And oft the brimming ponds 

With flashing fins are stirred. 

Red mapling autumn at last 

Appears, to quicken 
Sun-langored Castor, to cut his 

Crop of aspen; 
And mid the blood-tingling 

Frosts of night, he hastens. 
Steel-keened incisors 

And levered jaw to fasten, 
'Gainst trembling trunk and stem, 

In squat muscling action; 
And quick felled to earth they are. 

In toppling fashion. 
Bough trimmed next — then severed 

In short lengths for rafting. 



65 



Then, with every outlying 

Guard in quick suspense. 
Food hoarding Castor, with 

True water-level sense. 
Drags his timber to the nigh 

Canal or main stream. 
And rafts, water hid himself. 

By bright moon-beam. 
To yon isled castle in 

The waters of his pool; 
There to pile his storehouse 

With bark of aspen full. 
Now come the first faint quaverings 

Of Winter's fleecy snow; 
TTie ice forms, and wise Castor 

Gloats within his hut below. 




66 



UNDER THE SNOWS 

UNDER the snows Val Elkanah soft lies — 
Under the arch of the silent skies. 

White is her bosom — closed are her eyes. 
She sleeps on her couch as a northern queen, 
Breathing the balse of the spruces green. 

Oh, soften thy murmur, ye ice fringed stream. 
Ye birds of the forest, intrude not her dream. 
Oh, winds of the winter, blow softly and low. 
For fair Val Elkanah sleeps under the snow. 

From above peer the mountains blear and bleak. 
Thru the deep passes from peak to peak: 
Sentinels stern, that move not nor speak; 

Guarding the loved One in slumber below. 
Kissed by the lips of the alpenglow. 

Ye rude bold tempest, be still on the height. 

Ye far world, enter not in her sight. 
For fair Val Elkanah, clad in white — 
Under the high stars and suns of the night — 

Sleeps beneath the dim beams of their light. 

How can ye ask me, to leave one so fair — 

She in her beauty sleeping there. 

Apart from the world — its pain and care! 
Ne'er will I leave her, so pure and sweet. 

Together, we'll the bright springtime greet. 

Oh, soften thy murmur, ye ice fringed stream. 
Ye birds of the forest, intrude not her dream. 
Oh, winds of the winter, blow softly and low. 
For fair Val Elkanah sleeps under the snow. 



67 



The white-tailed ptarmigan, like the botany of the 
upper heights of the Front Range of the Rockies, sug- 
gests the far north of arctic Tvilds. It is the southern- 
most representative of a bird family whose members 
furnished sport for Lord Dufferins yacht crew on the 
Isle of Spitzbergen, and whose proud cock ^^ distant 
Labrador inspired Audubon to one of his finest bird 
paintings. Their plumage changes with the seasons 
and in winter is pure white. Protected by law, they 
inhabit the rock slopes above timber-line in consider- 
able numbers, feeding upon the buds of the alpine 
willows and birches. In winters of unusual snow-fall, 
which completely cover their usual feeding grounds, 
they are forced to the lower valleys to feed in the 
willow, birch, and alder copses. 



68 



WINTER FLIGHT OF PTARMIGAN 

WILDEST — most exquisite sight. 
Seen in these alpine lands, 
Is the flight of ptarmigan 

O'er Winter's snow-grained sands. 
Startled — they rise in spectral flight 

From the valley floor; 
And with wild cries wing ghostly 

The icy meadows o'er. 
Wheeling, curving pinions spotless. 

In descending night — 
Dim seen in the pall of blinding 

Snows, they speed their flight. 
Toward the gashed, gorge-rent, gale-swept 

Summits of pallored peaks. 
Which yet the winter sun enfeebled. 

Mantles with pale rose streaks. 

Oh, wondrous, snow plumed fowl 

Of far, drear alpine height; 
Thy flight suggests the winging 

Of holy angels bright. 
Seeming a brood so unearthly. 

Alabaster white; 
As if pure seraphic spirits. 

Speeding infinite 
O'er arctic ice-gleaming wastes 

'Tween earth and heaven laid. 
Had, from the gold paved, spiraled 

Holy Way, swift flight made. 
To meet One, who, divinely favored, 

Had brought his dead — 
Changed from cold clay into living 

Dove-like form instead — 
And from the utmost seas, in 

His bosom soft carried 
Hie exquisite shape; and amid this 

Desolation dread. 
Had met like winged shapes of 

Innocence from Edened calms. 
And loosed his dead, to fly 

With them to heavenly realms. 

69 



ASPEN DAYS ARE DAYS OF GOLD 



A 



SPEN days are days of gold, 
Whisp'ring to lovers — "Sweet enfold;' 
As all the brown crags. 

And all the green groves. 
And all the far hills 

Their shining bright tresses gild. 
And the heart beats blissful. 

As tho its love 
Embraced it close. 

And all its tender longing filled. 

Aspen days are autumn days 

Of cobwebbed skies. 
And sun-warmed, balsam 

Scented, nooks and glades; 
The heart, in Indian summer 

Warmth, revives; 
And love embraces love. 

In gold leafed shades. 

As if approving Summer's 

Last fond love. 
The birch in reddest scarlet 

Crowns the heights above; 
And sighing, love-panting. 

Soft, odorous breeze of South 
Imparts to everything of kiss 

Its rosy mouth. 

Aspen days are days of gold, 
Whisp'ring to lovers — "Sweet enfold;" 
As all the brown crags. 

And all the green groves. 
And all the far hills 

Their shining bright tresses gild. 
And the heart beats blissful. 

As tho its love 
Embraced it close, * 

And all its tender longing filled. 



70 



VIRGIN PEAKS 

YE'. 
Milk-white breasts of Virgin Peaks, 

Pink teated — swelling — 

With fragrant, warm, intoxicant 

Purple hollows 'tween dwelling! 

Ye! 

Vast Alpine Maids ! Molten sired 
By the red fires of love clutched elements; 
Lying, ripened, lily bulbed — recumbent — 
In chastity sweet florulent! 

Who? 

'Mong the starred youth of the orb isled 

Streams of Night dispersed. 

Shall lead ye, mist veiled. 

To the marriage bed of Universe? 




71 



CoTD'bell Hill, at the foot of which nestles the lit- 
tle hamlet of Allenspark, is one of the most romantic 
spots in the Rockies of Northern Colorado, and from 
its summit is to he observed one of the most glorious 
panoramas of the region. The SnolP^ Range, Wild 
Basin, Meeker Basin, the Vale of Elkanah, and the 
upper gorges of the North St Vrain and its various 
tributaries, are here seen in magnificent ensemble. 



72 



THE MAID O' COW-BELL HILL 

THERE is a spot near Aliens Park, 
A rugged, wind-swept hill : 
I ne'er can pass its grassy slopes 

Without a poignant thrill. 
A pine wood, once most beautiful, 

Swept from its base to top; 
But fierce and wind-fanned forest fires 

Felled charred its virgin crop. 
Since then a native grass has claimed 

Its wide and open green; 
And cattle from the village there 

Feed daily on the scene. 
And because of distant cow-bells 

In evening clear and still. 
Softly tinkling from the hillside. 

People call it Cow-bell Hill. 

And the stars they twinkle-twinkle. 

O'er the mountains, glen, and stream. 
And the bells they tinkle-tinkle. 
As the cows graze on the green. 
And as the notes waft to me. 
In the evening clear and still, 
I'm dreaming of the maiden 
That I met on Cow-bell Hill. 

One day to glance the landscape o'er — 

Its view is famous far — 
From lights of fair Elkanah's Vale 

To Green Mountain's fire scar — 
I sat me down upon a ledge 

Beneath a cloudless sky. 
And drank Wild Basin's beauty in 

And Meeker's vastness high. 
A west wind, soft as woman's touch. 

Pressed light my sweatened brow. 
And perfume of the heather sweet 

Swept upward to me now. 



73 



And — did I dream? It seemed not that; 

It was so true and real : 
A vision of a maiden fair 

Did sudden now reveal. 



I had oft wished for woman's love. 

The perfect of my dream, 
But years of 'quiteless longing had 

Subdued my youthful theme. 
So courteous only I arose 

And gave a friendly bow. 
And asked her if the view also 

Had led her to the high hill's brow. 
She answered not a word to me, 

But stood with downcast eyes : 
A being most transcendent like. 

Not heeding my surprise. 
Amazed, my thoughts in wonder flashed. 

Be she mortal maid or saint ! 
And as I stood there wondering. 

She ceased thus her restraint. 



*'In that fair land of spirit ken 

And known as Paradise, 
I too, have dreamed of love, as you. 

And thus traversed the skies. 
You've heard, I deem, the truth of life, 

That heav'nly love is this: 
Bright angels are not one — but flpo. 

Joined thus in perfect bliss. 
No one in all this world for me. 

But you, whom I adore. 
So give not up your thoughts of love, 

But seek me more and more. 
I'm waiting 'mong that winged throng 

For you, and you alone. 
So falter not nor cease your thoughts 

Of me in that sweet home." 



74 



I reeled ! My thoughts came thick and fast 

My heart beat as a boy. 
I strived to know this wondrous thing 

That made me mad with joy. 
I could not speak nor voice a word; 

My senses left me quite. 
I feared to make a sound or note 

Lest she should rise in flight. 
At last I felt the speech of thought. 

And gazed into her eyes, 
The clutch of that lost love of mine 

The years had held in ties. 
With outstretched arms I staggered forth, 

Thus heaven 'lowed me clasp — 
And for one moment's perfect joy 

I held her in my grasp. 

Oh, wondrous are the mysteries 

Of solitary lives. 
We see them come and go withal. 

But do not know their skies. 
A silent love burns brightly, and 

We may not see its flame; 
But oft within the hidden heart 

It's burning just the same. 
Tho mortal faith is weak and frail — 

A vision's light as air — 
Yet the call of that fair maiden 

I ne'er but will declare. 
She loves me, and she's waiting there — 

Beyond the starry skies. 
And when my spirit flies from hence 

We'll meet in Paradise. 

And the stars they twinkle-twinkle. 
O'er the mountains, glen, and stream. 
And the bells they tinkle- tinkle. 
As the cows graze on the green. 
And as the notes waft to me. 

In the evening clear and still, « 
I'm dreaming of the maiden 
That I met on Cow-bell Hill. 



75 



PURPLES 

EMERGING from the forest dark. 
With night-log of resinous pine, 
I beheld a marvel — 
Beautiful — divine. 

'Twas deep evening, and by the 

Alpenglow I had cut the pine, 
As the West glowed golden 

In the Sun's decline. 

The winter snows lay deep, and all 

The Vale in marble chastity 
Was draped by Nature's 

Frost-cryst'ling alchemy. 

I looked — and on the crusted snow 
Cast my log with sharp wonder cry, 

Gazing worshipful 

Upon the eastern sky. 

The great east Mountain of our God-loved Vale 

Smoked in shim' ring purples. 
The nuptial bed drape 

Of empassioned couples. 

Not more glorious was pearl-eyed 
Venus, panting in the throes of love. 

Than this tow' ring Mountain, 
Quivering above. 

I saw the Groom — transcendent Star, 

Pressing on the Mountain's heaving breast 

His orbed kiss, flaming 
In glances rubiest. 

Like search-light beams, the Groom, mid the 
Canopied purples, flashed fire eyes; 

Then rose at last — in flame — 
From the Mountain's sighs. 

They embraced there — the Mountain and 
The Star, in Hymen's sweetest swoon; 

Then deep hid from view. 

By veil of 'proaching Moon. 

I waited till the Queen of Night 

Had cleared the east rim of the Vale, 

And by her light, shouldered log. 
And sought the trail. 

76 




THERE IS NO BORDER TO THE WEST 

THERE is no border to the West. 
That's why I love it best. 
It travels with the setting sun, 
On Freedom's high wave crest. 

It has no pampered royalty 
To check the flow of liberty ; 
But warmest hospitality. 
To purge the soul of tyranny. 

All kings will fade. Republics rule 
The coming years of Hist'ry's school. 
Like the air of our golden West, 
All men in liberty breathe best. 

There is no border to the West. 
That's why I love it best. 
It travels with the setting sun. 
On Freedom's high wave crest. 



77 



The Vale of Elkanah is famous for its man}) rvon- 
derful cloud and atmospheric effects, but none are more 
remarkable than the beautiful alpenglorvs of autumn 
and earl^ Tvinter. For man}) moments, in some in- 
stances, after the sun has gone don>n, orange and rose 
radiances so gloTP from the western sk}), as to tinge and 
communicate their colors to the first snoTvs of winter. 



78 



THE ALPENGLOW 

THE alpenglow is the parting glance 
Of a perfect, cloudless day. 
Cast as a dying maiden's gaze 
Falls on her lover unearthly bright. 
As her soul takes wing on the heavenly way. 
And leaves him alone in the deepening night. 
To murmur her name and pray — and pray. 

Suffusing the burnished peaks of glacier 

And boss of gleaming snow — 
Submerging the topmost crags and heights. 

It holds the mountains in its fold ; 
Sifting and rippling its pink blushing tender glow. 
Thru the deep wind-hollowed passes drear and old. 

And down to the Vale below — below. 

And it lights my soul as it shines from the skies. 

And mantling the peaks. 
Pours into the Vale its deathless glance. 

Filling my sight with vistas fair ; 
Pressing its rose blush to my uplifted cheeks, 
And lifting mine eyes to those sweet visions rare. 

That my thought ever seeks — ever seeks. 



79 



In the vernacular of the Rockies, the quaking asps 
or aspens, are known as Quakers. 



80 



THE QUAKER'S BONNY BONNETS 

THE drear sight I saw this morning, dear, 
'Deed, it sorter made me sad. 
Altho I s'pose the winter time 

Has right much to make us glad. 
Yet the frost is keen and biting 

To the greens of summer, dear; 
And to me there's something mournful 

In the autumn of the year. 
Now these Quakers, you remember. 

In the springtime's rosy cheer; 
How they leaved so green, divinely. 

On the sunny hill right here. 
How in glee they shook in summer 

And soft rustled in the breeze. 
And now it nearly breaks my heart 

That I must part with these. 

Oh, the Quaker's bonny bonnets 
Are a-turning on the hill. 
Their leaves are silent falling 
In the ripples of the rill. 
The frost has nipped their dainty heads. 
They're silent now and still. 
Oh, can't ye cuddle closer, love. 
To drive away the chill! 

But there's hope, I guess, in falling leaves. 

As in other things that die. 
Just as there is resurrection 

In the things we crucify. 
So we'll watch the dead leaves falling 

As the winter wind blows cold. 
We will see their yellow tresses 

Sink to Mother Earth and mould. 
We will see the trees stript naked 

Of their bright green summer dress. 
And watch the drifting snow enfold 

Their poor shivering distress. 



81 



But bright we'll keep the winter fires 
Till the springtime comes again; 

And then we'll see the Quakers, love, 
Leaf in the warm spring rain. 

Oh, the Quaker's bonny bonnets 
Are a-tuming on the hill. 

Their leaves are silent falling 
In the ripples of the rill. 
The frost has nipped their dainty heads. 
They're silent now and still. 
Oh, can't ye cuddle closer, love. 
To drive away the chill! 



82 



SOME HOLY DAY 

THE slender crescent of the maiden Moon 
Gleams soft o'er our sacred Peak; 
And lustrous Venus Aphrodite, bright 
Conjunctive glows, at her shining feet. 
Close west-horizoned, shines a rosy alpenglow. 

Which with cupid clouds is wreathed; 
And I — adoring, stand expectant, suppliant — 
Bright angels fair to meet. 

I feel, I know, I shall — some Holy Day, 

As these peerless planets repeat. 
With God-like grace, this glorious scene. 

Fade — and with them sink, in azure sweet. 



83 



All that peerless Tvilderness of snolPp alp and 
shaggy Wood on the headwaters of the North St. Vrain 
west of Copeland Lake, on the State road between 
Aliens and Estes Parks, has long been known as Wild 
Basin. It is a magnificently watered and wooded 
country, slightl}) touched, man^ years ago, fc\j fire on 
the north rim. The Continental Divide forms a solid 
rampart on the west; the Longs Peak spur range rims 
the north, and the Mt. Caroline ridge, extending south- 
easterly from Mt. Cooper on the Front Range, rims it 
on the south. Altho visited and explored more or less 
b\} numerous parties in recent years, and often pros- 
pected by miners, it was never accurately mapped not 
its minor peaks named, until Messrs. Cooper and Bab- 
cock accomplished the task ^" 1908-09 ; and its upper 
heights still offer unexplored fastnesses to the daring. 



84 



w 



WILD BASIN 

ILD BASIN! 

Torrent roaring gorge of June! 
The gathered snows of winter 
Melt — froth descending — 
In seaward swoon. 

High the river, swelling. 

With the loosed mad snows impelling. 

Rears its crest, flood fills 

Its banks, and sets the land atune. 

Wild Basin! 

Snow frescoed corridor! 

The orb studded dome of Night 
Its snow bastioned heights 
High arching o'er: 

Reflecting her red lamps 
In its emerald ripjiling tarns ; 
And sifting soft moon-beams 
O'er its green, moss-cushioned floor. 

Wild Basin! 

Deep — squirrel haunted woo(i ! 

Spruce columned — and balsamed sweet; 
Green aspen edged, pined. 
And brown willowed. 

Dogwood twined — fruited red. 

With rasp and strawberry's ripe heads; 

Clematised — junipered ; 

And, nigh snow, dwarfed pines soft brood. 

Wild Basin! 

Bird flitting realm of song! 

Joy chorused, myriad winged ; 
Full throated, piping, 
Melodious throng. 

Ousel — songed water-fowl ; 
Humming-birds, with swift whirring wings; 
Solitaires, and other 
Songsters, sing the woods among. 



85 



Wild Basin! 

Sweet scented land of green ! 

Alpine gardened, next the snow. 
With marsh marigold. 
And next the stream, 

With primroses red, blue 
Mertensia, and adder's tongue; 
And banked with laurel pink. 
And rare orchids, oft unseen. 



Wild Basin! 

Land of trout teeming pools ! 
A full thousand white cascades. 
Coursing forest glades 
In leafy cools ; 

Shining with specked beauties. 

Which — finning foamed, bud-kissed riffles — 

Tempting lurk 'neath deep banks, 

Slow snuffling sun-gleamed globules. 

Wild Basin! 

Cragged abyss of azure! 

Cloud fleeced, with rainbows arching 
Sunlit waterfalls 
And fountains pure. 

Distant storms, echoing 

Their thunders, and lightnings flashing. 

Hail, rain — tempests lashing; 

Then sun-glints from skies unobscured. 



Wild Basin! 
Protean Enchantress! 

Dissolved to tears — flushed — angered; 
Then gay smiling bright 
In tenderness. 

Piqued — ^withdrawing her smiles. 
Yet ever beautiful ; 
Then revealing, ne'er shamed. 
All her charms in wantonness. 



86 



Wild Basin! 

Bowed in autumnal hush! 

Streams low murmuring and shrunk 
To gold sanded rills ; 
And founts cease gush. 

Winds low wailing. Deep woods 
Whisp'ring — sore dreading coming snows. 
Crimsoned sunsets flicker, 
And ling'ring birds swift southward rush. 

Wild Basin! 

Gleamed in desolate snows ! 

From ice stilled streams to peak tips ; 
And forest, snow-drooped 
In silent rows. 

Moons, ghostly and mist-veiled. 
Peer monthly at the deep'ning drifts. 
Suns, feeble, rise and set; 
And the wild wind ever blows. 




87 



The Mist Dragon is a vast fleece-like mist that is 
often observed in the Vale of Elkanah, issuing in 
stealthy, undulating, serpentine movement, from the 
lower gorges of the North St. Vrain and creeping 
along the base of the Twin Sisters and up into Lamb's 
Notch, the hydrographic divide between the waters of 
the Big Thompson and the St. Vrain; where it is usu- 
ally) dispersed and dissipated by conflicting air currents 
from Estes Park. This cloud formation is gleaming 
white and is often miles in length; and by reason of 
its insidious, reptile motion and uniform python-like 
body, suggests a dragon. Occasionally it retreats and 
withdraws itself to the gorges whence it came, with the 
same motion of its advance. 



THE MIST DRAGON 

OUT from the deep gorge 
The mist-stoled reptile sweeps. 
Gripping each confronting peak* 
It stealthy thiefs, 
As a worm extends itself 

And slowly creeps, 
Bridging, arch-like. 

The op'ed space from leaf to leaf. 



Valeward, from the river's course. 

It twists its huge constricting shape; 
And floats — a dirigible vast — 

Its snow-white sinuous tape 
The mid heights of the Sisters past. 

And on to the pine clad Notch ; 
Where unseen warders of the air — 

Who its silent course have watched — 
Attack, with desp'rate fury. 

The intruding aerialite. 
Now deadly and mid-air conflict 

Rages on that sky -ward height; 
Until, dismayed, the beast 

Retires to its cave in shattered plight; 
Or dissolves invisible, 

And unseen of man, maintains the fight. 



Thus, the aerial, 

Vap'rous world of cloud — 
As doth the sphered. 

Sunward rolling globe of man — 
Teems with commingling life. 

Monster-like and mad. 
In perfect 'lotment 

With God's unfathomed plan. 



Thunder Lake, where the follorving poem was 
written, lies at the upper end of Wild Basin under the 
magnificent thousand foot precipices of Mt. Kirkwood. 
From the east shore of the lake, two beautiful water- 
falls can be seen, pitching in whitest foam over gorge 
rims 500 feet above the lake level. Directly to the 
west, above a wilderness of flashing snow fields, is the 
low col of the Continental Divide between Mts. Alice 
and Kirkwood — the Boulder-Grand Pass. The lake 
was named by Harry Cole, an early settler, on account 
of the deep reverberations of thunder which roll 
grandly from Kirkwood's mighty slopes, and boom 
tempestuously across the lake. 



90 



SPRUCES AND STARS 

THE white-crowned sparrow's 
Song is hushed — 

The pipit's voice is still. 
The sound of stream that day-bright rushed 

Has sunk to tinkling rill. 
The last bright ray of 
Setting sun 

Cross the tarn its fire has flung. 
Merging with leaping flame crimson. 

Of campfire, pot o'erhung. 
The meal is done. 

And Night's deep gloom 
Enfolds the mountain land. 
The charred red coals of campfire bloom 

Are dying on the sand. 
Then stars descend 

'Mong dark spruce boughs. 
And dance to sleepy eyes ; 
Till their spell induces deep sleep drowse. 
And alp wind breathes in sighs. 

Spruces and stars 

Are the campfire cars, 

Wheeling souls to pleasant dreams ; 

As on my back. 

In the blanket pack, 

I gaze on the bright orb gleams; 

Shining, mellow soft. 

From skies aloft. 

Thru the spruce boughs' latticed seams. 

The midnight chill 
Of the alpine night 

Awakens me with start, 
I shiver — brushing hoar frost white, 

From where the blankets part. 
Then gath'ring full 
The whole bed pack, 
I snuggle deep inside; 



91 



And peer soft thru the spruce roof crack. 

At the planets circHng wide. 
Endless train 

Of chariots bright, 

Tracking the Milky Way — 
I cannot sleep till starry Night 

Dim passengers the Day. 
Hie balsamed boughs 

That arbor roof, 

The cov' rings of my pack. 
Bend soft in mothering sweet droop. 

As swift the planets track. 

Spruces and stars 

Are the camplire cars, 

Wheeling souls to pleasant dreams ; 

As on my back. 

In the blanket pack, 

I gaze on the bright orb gleams; 

Shining, mellow soft. 

From skies aloft, 

Thru the spruce boughs' latticed seams. 



The dark trees 

With their cuddlings mute, 
Again deep sleep instill; 
In spite of thought in dream dispute, 

I'd sleep not till Morn's thrill. 
Oh! What soft light 

Is that I see. 

That dims these starry eyes? 
It is — It is the mystery 

Of Morning's glad sunrise. 
I lie now 

Till the lovely eyes 

Of soft and tender Night 
Grow dim and pale in ghostly guise. 

And spruces stand in light. 



92 



Oh, Night. 

Sweet dusky mother deep — 
Farewell, till Day once more 
Sinks in Thine arms in tired sleep. 

And I with Thee drowsed o'er. 

Spruces and stars 

Are the campfire cars. 

Wheeling souls to pleasant dreams; 

As on my back. 

In the blanket pack, 

I gaze on the bright orb gleams; 

Shining, mellow soft. 

From skies aloft, 

Thru the spruce boughs' latticed seams. 




93 



The gloTi>'Worm is found on the summit of Old 
Man and Lily Mountains and other points in the mid- 
dle oberland, in June and early summer. It is about 
an inch long, appearing somewhat like a caterpillar^ 
and emitting a shining green light; which glows stead- 
ily, not at intervals, as the fire-fly s does. It is only the 
female which is thus phosphorescent, the male resem- 
bling an ordinary flying beetle; which, flying about in 
the night, is attracted to the female by her light. 



94 



SONG OF THE GLOW-WORM 



w 



HERE art thou, my pretty mate. 

Ling' ring in the warm glade late? 
My form is fair illuminate. 
And I, my love, impatient wait. 



On the rock — 'neath the moon — 
I soft incandescent bloom. 
Gleaming bright to captivate 
My own — my pretty downy mate. 

Soft he comes, my pretty down. 
Ambling o'er the lichens brown ; 

Attracted by my shining form. 

Which he'll embrace till dewy morn. 

On the rock — 'neath the moon — 
I soft incandescent bloom. 
Gleaming bright to captivate 
My own — my pretty downy mate. 



95 



Ml Ypsilon, a prominent peak of the Mummy 
Range northwest of Horseshoe Park, received its name 
from Mrs. Frederick H. Chapin, who in company with 
her husband, visited Estes Park i" 1887 ; and the fol- 
lowing, quoted from Mr. Chapin s hook. Mountaineer- 
ing In Colorado, will explain: 

"One great peak ^iih a steep wall facing east, and 
a long reclining ridge leading toward the southwest, 
especially interested us. A large snow-field lay on the 
eastern face; two glittering hands of ice extended sky- 
ward to the ridge of the mountain, forming a perfect 
Y. My wife said to me, 'Its name shall he Ypsilon 
(the Creek name for the letter Y) Peak'' ^o it went 
forth, and the name was accepted by the dwellers in 
the valley, and by the visitors at the ranches.'* 

In the summer of 1905, Mr. Louis Raymond 
Levings, younger son of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Lev- 
ings of Chicago, in attempting to cross the east face 
of the mountain, suddenly fell to depths below and was 
instantly ^i7/eJ. His body was entombed in concrete 
near the point where it lodged. 



96 



LOUIS 

ON the slopes of Ypsilon, 
Where the flying eagle soars — 
Where the snows of winter linger. 
And the gleaming granite lures — 
There a Sleeper lies a-dreaming 

In the hollow of the steep, 
Where the winds of tempests bellow. 
And the storm mists wreathe and creep. 



Across the glist'ning snow-fields 

There comes the rosy flush of Morn 
Hie heights in golden sunshine glitter — 

The beaming Day is born. 
Then Evening with its shadows — 

Let thru the Twilight's bars — 
And dusky Night in glory 

Spreads her beauteous robe of stars. 



Yet the Sleeper lies a-dreaming. 
And the suns they cycle on. 
Hie seasons their set courses run, 
And the years pass swift anon. 
We loved Him! 
Ah ! Need say we more ! 
Our loved One — slumber on; 
As the Ages chant their measures 
On the slopes of Ypsilon. 



The Spring with alpine daisies fair 

Decks bright the Sleeper's cot ; 
The Summer with its primroses. 

And sweet for-get-me-not ; 
The Autumn with its lusty winds. 

And gorgeous alpenglows; 
TTie Winter with its winding sheet 

Of chaste and purest snows. 



97 



The silent Mountain glistens 

In the heat of summer noon. 
Its snowy wings gleam brightly 

'Neath the winter's midnight moon. 
Its crest is stud with star gems — 

Its pure fountains sparkle clear ; 
And all its alpine beauty 

Is revealed each passing year. 



Yet the Sleeper lies a-dreaming. 
And the suns they cycle on. 
The seasons their set courses run. 
And the years pass swift anon. 
We loved Him! 
Ah! Need say we more! 
Our loved One — slumber on; 
As the Ages chant their measures 
On the slopes of Ypsilon. 



98 



BACK TO THE HEARTH OF MY HUT 



o 



NCE more I've met the monster face to face — 
Spoil-mad World and the batthng Race. 
Stript of my goods, sore wounded, scarce ahve, 
I gain my hut — a fugitive. 



Fled from the world and its misery — 
Safe from the arms of the enemy — 
Back to the hearth of my hut. Oh God, with Thee ! 

Quick, then, put the big back log in its space. 
And pitch-needled boughs of pine put in place. 

A handful of shavings — blaze of the match — 
Ah, now the bright fires of my hearth do catch. 

The pot soon is singing its roundelay. 

My dog is curled up on his wisp of hay. 
The Muses have come for the evening's tale. 

And now surges strong the fierce winter gale. 

Red, now, the flames of my hearth render cheer. 

My friends gather round me, lovely and dear. 
Both angels and men here need have no fear. 

We're safe in our hut from the outside drear. 

Fled from the world and its misery — 
Safe from the arms of the enemy — 
Back to the hearth of my hut. Oh God, with Thee ! 



Helen H^de, that inimitable skeicher of Japanese 
child and folk lif^> being impressed with the piciur- 
esqueness in Japan of the flitting of the innumerable 
lighted paper lanterns on the hill and mountain sides 
which the natives carr^ as the^ visit each other or 
gather at social functions at night, introduced the same 
charming custom in Elkanah Valley, fc\j presenting 
to each of her friends a handsome Japanese lantern in- 
scribed with the monogram of the local club, and 
which are invariably) used as above — the lighted lan- 
tern being symbolized as signify)ing the warmest fel- 
lowship and hospitality. 



100 



LIGHTS OF THE VALE 

LIGHTS of the Vale 
Are flitting the trails, 

To lighten each one to the hall; 
Where maidens most fair 

And gallants of air 
Will linger long in the spell of the ball. 

Oh! Beautiful hghts! 
Oh! Lanterns so bright! 

Glowing far in the evergreen dale: 
What brightness is thine 

Of sweet friendship divine — 
Soft, shining lights of the Vale I 

Lights of the Vale 

Are flitting the trails. 

To lighten each one to his home ; 
And each lantern bright 

Gleams soft in the night, 
As beaming stars in the heaven orbed dome. 

Oh! Beautiful lights! 
Oh! Lanterns so bright! 

Glowing far in the evergreen dale: 
What tales could ye tell 

As love treads yonder dell — 
Soft, shining lights of the Vale ! 



101 



The sarv-rvhet owl is so named from its raspM^e 
note, resembling the filing of a saw. It is the pigmy 
of the owl family in this region; is only about eight 
inches long, of reddish-brown, white, and gray plum- 
age, and is here all the year round. 



102 



THE SAW-WHET OWL 

THERE is a little saw-whet owl 
Who visits me at night; 
But he's so small and active like 
It's rare that he's in sight. 

He starts to file his little saw 
'Bout the time I'm snug in bed. 

He keeps it up so long at times 
I oft think he'll split my head. 

Now they say an owl's ill-omened. 
But of him I have no fear: 

I hope he'll whet his little saw 
For many a happy year. 



103 



The Continental Divide is, in effect, a huge wall; 
and on the east slope, that which descends towards 
the Great Plains and forms their uppermost watershed, 
it is indented with innumerable gorges, gulches, basins, 
and other cavities, forming natural reservoirs, cisterns^ 
and deep receptacles, for the depositing and conserv- 
ing of snow, and so contrived as to be hidden for a 
large portion of the year from the rays of the sun. 
When the falls of snow come, they usually appear 
from the southeast, borne by a steady drift and at a 
temperature of about 22 degrees above zero, and ex- 
tending over the whole Front Range and usually at- 
taining a depth of from two to sixteen inches; and it 
can readily be understood, that if they lay as they fell, 
they would quickly evaporate upon the appearance of 
the sun. To avoid this, and maintain an inexhaustible 
and steady streamflow. Nature provides in this region 
a winter prevailing wind, the northwest, which, after 
almost every fall of snow, strips hundreds of miles of 
the high country along the Continental Divide of its 
frozen flawed wealth; and blows, sifts, and deposits it 
in enormous drifts and fields in the above described 
repositories; later, as the sun swings northward, and at 
a time when moisture is often sorely needed on the 
Great Plains for irrigating crops, to be melted and 
flow to them in the form of purest aqua. The forest, 
of course, is a great secondary factor in snow conser- 
vation in this region, but most of the great neves and 
glaciers of the Front Range lie high above timberline. 



104 



THE WHITE SHEPHERD OF THE 
OBERLAND 

AFOOT of snow has fallen 
On the Continental Range; 
A smother of gray some storm clouds 
Spilled light the frozen rain. 
On hill, in vale, and valley deep. 

The fluffy fleeces lie. 
Waiting for the faithful Shepherd 
To drive them cross the sky. 

Afar on the western ranges 

Sounds his boreal horn. 
Clear o'er the glistening alps 

The echoing notes are borne. 
And the great pines hearing, 

Rustle their green boughs and whisper, 
"He's coming. He's coming! 

Ye sleeping flocks, bestir! Bestir!" 

Clad in his airy raiment — 

Wielding his soughing staff. 

The White Shepherd of the mountains 

Seeks swift the fleecy band. 

And o'er the wintry ledges — 

Across the dizzy crags, 

He drives them safe to the sheepfolds. 

In the heart of the Oberland. 

Roused from their slumber, joy wakened. 

Quick springing, and bleating. 
The flocks of the peak world 

Their loved Shepherd give greeting. 
'*Up — up! And be off," says he; 

"To the sheepfolds be fleeting. 
Ere the dread wolf of the Sun 

Thy snowy fluffs be seeking." 

Thus thru the long night. 

With swift scamper and scurrying rush. 
O'er the cabin roof and eaves 

They rustle, jostle, and brush ; 
With ever the weird song 

Of their Shepherd, and softest sough 
Of his wonderful staff 

Directing stragglers straight and true. 

105 



Another marvel to be noted in connection with 
the above conserving process is that in the lower val- 
leys and ranges, the forest here becoming the main re- 
ceptacle factor in snow conservation, the same wind 
sweeps the snow from the unwooded pastures, slopes, 
and fields, into the forests; thus not onl}) affording open 
grazing for the stock, but at the same time conserving a 
large quantit}) of snow in these lower altitudes, which 
melts and descends to the Great Plains early in the 
spring, in time to irrigate the newly planted crops in the 
event of the failure of rain at the critical period of ger- 
mination. Thus the Northwest Wind — cursed 
roundly at times by both plainsman and mountaineer 
for its persistent bitter blast — is probably our greatest 
conservationist; and whenever the Great Hills are 
white with flying snow, it is certain it is busy storing 
and conserving a wealth of moisture. 

The snows of the upper oberland do not melt to 
any appreciable degree until June, the flood month. 
The normal snowfall of the Front Range valleys is 
from eight to ten feet. Glaciers are formed by masses 
of snow concentrating in one place, generally a steep 
gorge where the wind has conveyed the snow, and there 
passing thru a granular process, which gradually con- 
verts them into ice. A neve or firn, is a field of snow 
undergoing the granular process. 



106 



Now safe in the gorges, the gulches. 

And shehered north slopes, 
The flocks have been driven 

Ere the Sun his golden eye opes. 
And if thru the day, the Shepherd 

Yet drives fleeces that stray. 
He still with his song and staff 

Keeps the dread wolf away. 

Now list ye, honest worker 

Of farm, of orchard, and crop: 
When loud sounds the wind-horn of Shepherd 

From high mountain top. 
Do not curse that wild note. 

But cheerily bend to its blast. 
And bless all the bright waters 

The pure snow fleeces send past. 

Clad in his airy raiment — 

Wielding his soughing staff. 

The White Shepherd of the mountains 

Seeks swift the fleecy band. 

And o'er the wantry ledges — 

Across the dizzy crags. 

He drives them safe^to the sheep folds. 

In the heart of the Oberland. 




107 



The hermit-thrush is one of the true thrushes of 
North America. It is one of the late spring arrivals 
in the Rockies, nests on the ground, and lays four or 
five pale-bluish eggs. Nearly every swamp or marsh 
in the upper valleys of the oberland is inhabited by a 
pair of these beautiful songsters in the nesting and 
brooding season, Tvho almost invariably perch on a fa- 
vorite dead snag or stump when in the throes of ecstatic 
melody. Settlers and other home makers in our alpine 
valleys, are quite prone to cut and remove sucji un- 
sightly objects as an old dead snag or tree standing full 
or part length among its green boughed fellows or in a 
meadow. These, however, are the real bird trees, bal- 
conies, and perches of the wild songsters; and to those 
who have learned and k^ow, are as precious for this 
reason, as the finest spruce in the glade. 



108 



THE HERMIT-THRUSH 

THERE dwells a little hermit dear 
In the deep and tangled wood. 
You ne'er can see him come or go, 
For company or food. 
His little coat is modest quite. 

And every summer day 
He sits amid the forest deep. 
And sings his little heart away. 

He does not like to sit upon 

A green and leafy tree; 
But rather on an old dead snag 

He lifts his melody. 
He sounds his peep in early morn — 

In dim and breaking day; 
But evening is the solemn hour 

That hears his sweetest roundelay. 

It would not do for me to tell 

How matchless is his song. 
It pipes of all the beauteous things 

That Nature lives among. 
It sings of rain, and dew, and sky ; 

Of sun, and flower nod. 
It lifts the soul to mansions high. 

And breathes the sacred name of God. 



109 



A MOUNTAIN MORNING GRAY AND I 
TO WORK 

THE early dawn — gray, ghostly in the east; 
An old moon, dying, low hung in the west; 
The cabin clutched in the mell of wild wind- 
hound. 
Seeking a deep sunk vacuum never found; 
Impelling blasts of sand on window-pane. 

And sifting thru fine snow, the hurricane. 
From dirt-grimed, graveled drifts athwart the Vale — 
Wind bleached skeletons of deep watered gale. 

The sun, low down, deep burdened, weary strains ; 

Staggering unwieldy o'er distant plains. 
Peers once with blood-shot eye into the Vale, 

And viewing wild the surge of howling gale. 
Refuge finds in a gray and leaden sky. 

And lets the vacuum-seeking hounds go by. 
And they, afoam, despairing of their prey, 

Yell madly on the Continental way. 

Amid the rout of wind and weather drear 

The breakfast lends a momentary cheer. 
Rich buttermilk pancakes — a slice of ham — 

A little fruit — fill full the inner man. 
A tight buttoned coat, warm cap, mittened hand. 

And eyes set 'gainst the glint of snow and sand — 
We're off, the dog and I, with axe and saw. 

Up the steep slope full in the wild wind's maw. 

We cross the glassy roof of iced stream's course. 

Low, deep gurgling thru the airholes hoarse. 
The meadow grass — mauled, frayed to brassy 
brown — 

Seems scarce to keep root hold in the ground. 
The smaller trees about us bend and groan; 

The large ones stiff receive the shock, and moan. 
No life to bid the dog's attention gay : 

Bird, squirrel, rabbit — all have fled the day. 



110 



The mountain crests sharp in defiance stand. 

Tossing off the mad wind-hounds that glut the land. 
From horns whose keen thrusts loud the beasts make 
howl, 

And drive them sore on lesser heights to prowl. 
Now to the deep protecting forest we. 

In whose thick pungent depths from mad gales free, 
We cut and gather fallen spruce and pine. 

For cottage fires and deepest winter time. 




Ill 



From the Vale of Elkanah, distant about fori^- 
ftve miles as the crow flies, and from an altitude of 
9,000 feet, can be seen the lights of Denver, as the^ 
are reflected from the low clouds that frequently hover 
over the city at night. The upper slopes of the Vale 
itself, at altitudes of 10,000 feet and upward, are 
plainly visible with the naked eye from the view points 
and parks in the above named city. 



112 



CITY LIGHTS SEEN FROM THE 
WILDERNESS 

OFT, as from my hut at night 
I scan the low hung southeastern sky, 
I can, reflected on the clouds. 
The lights of a great city spy. 
In fancy, I see its thronged streets 
Of pleasure rife and worldly hfe. 
As tho I myself were there. 
Submerged, my soul, in its carnal strife. 

Yet tell me, thou thence-from speeding wind. 
Who of all that motley throng. 
Illumed by the glory of his God, 
As I, on this lone hill, Hfts song 
Of that love divine, which in Earth 
And Heaven, sweet fills thirsting soul. 
And alone, shorn of goods and gold. 
Wafts Life's voyager to his sure goal. 

Yet I doubt not, and loud rejoice. 

That thousands of those city souls . 

Are pure and fair as angels'; 

Tho deep submerged they are, in close folds 

Of that fevered life and endless care. 

As I would be if I were there. 

Submerged ! 

Aye — and by themselves, and why? 
Part of the Perfect Plan — is this. 
For e'en the stars, the nebulae. 
Swarm as bees in Night's abyss. 

Shine on! 

Beacons of yon city bright. 

And flare your clust'ring candles skyward! 

While I, 'neath these sparkling stars of night. 

Pray earnest upward. 

That yon myriad swarming souls 

Wing ever truest Godward. 



113 



YE BRIGHT FOAMING WATERS OF 
BOUNDING ST. VRAIN 

A SWIFT rushing river 
Breaks 'cross a pebb'ed strand. 
'Tis one of the waters 
Of lofty sky-land. 
Which gathers the fountains 

Of pure melting snow, 
And carries them swiftly 
To depths far below. 
'Tis a mad rushing flood. 

That none can restrain — 
TTie bright foaming waters 
Of bounding St. Vrain. 

Ye were ever thus mad. 

Oh, leaping St. Vrain. 
In thine eternal rush 

I've called ye in vain. 
Your sparkling blue lakelets 

And pools without name 
All seaward are streaming 

With sluicings and drain — 
To form your wild water. 

Oh, bounding St. Vrain. 

Yet there's one lovely spot. 

Ye know of, St. Vrain; 
When I called ye, ye stopped, 

And strove not in vain. 
'Twas high on the mountains 

Where snow glaciers reign; 
Your trickling blue fountain 

I quaffed in its vein. 
As fast as it melted. 

Oh, bounding St. Vrain. 

By that happy instance. 

Oh, laughing St. Vrain — 
Like lover who's tasted — 



114 



Tho not vile profane; 
I stroll oft beside ye. 

As seaward ye train. 
In refreshing fond love. 

Oh, bounding St. Vrain. 

Roll on then, bright water. 

And verdure the plain. 
Roll on to the ocean. 

With wild mountain strain. 
Ye've plunged from the prec'pice — 

Ye've sprung from the cloud; 
Ye've leaped from the gorge rim. 

Which gray mists enshroud. 
So roar ye, wild water. 

And splash your white mane — 
I love you — I love you. 

Oh, bounding St. Vrain. 




115 



For several ^ears, it was the manifestly unjust and 
fatally discriminatory law in Colorado, that only deer 
with horns could be slain in the legal game season 
beginning October 1st; which soon resulted — from 
danger of total extinction — of a law wholly closing 
for a period of years, the slaughter of deer of any 
kind. 



116 



THE GUILT OF BEARING PROUD 
ANTLERED CREST 

THERE is a law that dooms 
In autumn of each year 
To hunter's ruthless gun. 
The proudest of the deer. 

The stag is he, whose lordly horns 

Proclaim the lawful prey; 
And I fancy, as Death speeds the ball. 

His mournful lay: 

*'Fly on, my loved doe, and live. 
Our beauteous offspring to thrive. 

While I, guilty of bearing proud 
Antlered crest, must bleeding die.** 



117 



YE GREEN PINES AND TALL SPRUCES 
OF WIND RIVER TRAIL 

OFT in sorrow I've wandered 
In grief from our Vale, 
Footing wilds dim remote 
'Neath the moon's misty veil; 
To wake in sweet transport 

At the stream's limpid tale. 
As I walked the green windings 
Of Wind River Trail. 

Oh, green pines and tall spruces 

Of Wind River Trail! 
How soft is thy murmur 

As I tread your loved dale. 
Mating birds sing their songs — 

Flowers fragrance exhale. 
As I walk your leafed pathways. 

Oh, Wind River Trail. 

There's no grief that Nature 

Cannot sweetly assuage. 
There's no sorrow so deep 

But a song will avail. 
And I feel and I know. 

As I there pilgrimage, 
I'll find joy and sweet peace 

On the Wind River Trail. 

Oh, green pines and tall spruces 

Of Wind River Trail! 
How soft is thy murmur 

As I tread your loved dale. 
Mating birds sing their songs — 

Flowers fragrance exhale. 
As I walk your leafed pathways. 

Oh. Wind River Trail. 



118 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELKANAH— 
THERE IS LOVE 



THERE lies a lovely valley 
In the mountains far away. 
Where people often wander 
And rapt lovers softly stray. 
And oft they sweetly wonder 

Why this valley green and fair 
Seems fairer than their fondest dreams- 

So free from sin and care. 
As thus they gently marvel 

And the meadows fresh they rove. 
They hear the thrushes singing 

In the deep and verdured grove. 
And the song they always sing. 
As they make the woodlands ring. 
Is — In the Valley of Elkanah — 
There is Love. 

In the Valley of Elkanah — 

There is Love. 
Oh! Hear the thrushes 

Singing in the grove; 
Of the grace that God has sent 
To this vale of sweet content; 

In the Valley of Elkanah — 
TTiere is Love. 

In this flower smiling valley 

'Neath the mountain's lofty brow. 
The dews of sunmier sparkle 

And the night wind whispers low. 
The green and tasseled spruces 

Murmur wood songs from the hills: 
And the alpine cascades falling. 

Babble wild notes in their rills. 
Yet sweeter melody is wafted 

By the thrushes in the grove. 
As tho Heaven's fairest angels 

Joined in chorus from Above. 



119 



And the song they always sing. 
As they make the woodlands ring. 
Is — In the Valley of Elkanah — 
There is Love. 

In the Valley of Elkanah — 

There is Love. 
Oh! Hear the thrushes 

Singing in the grove; 
Of the grace that God has sent 
To this vale of sweet content; 

In the Valley of Elkanah — 
TTiere is Love. 



120 



TIS MOONLIGHT ON THE SISTERS 



T 



IS moonlight on the Sisters! 

The Queen of Night in glory rims 
The mount in lunar splendors. 
And full the Vale with silver brims. 



'Tis moonlight on the Sisters! 

The alp world in beauty shines. 
The voice of Nature whispers 

To the green and glossy pines. 

'Tis moonlight on the Sisters! 

The wild stag beside his mate 
Scents keen with nostril quivers 

The soft breeze that stirs the lake. 

'Tis moonlight on the Sisters ! 

And all living things are moved 
To fond caress their lovers. 

In the shadow of the wood. 

'Tis moonlight on the Sisters! 

Come forth, my love, to me. 
We'll sweet appease Love's hunger 

'Neath the quaking aspen tree. 



121 



As seen from Park Hill, and man}) other vietv 
points in the vast amphitheatre of Estes Park, the ebon 
n>ooded depths of the Black Canon, with its beauti- 
ful forested ru flings and verdure fluted rimmings, 
forms one of the most magnificent canon slashings to 
be observed in the region. 

DoTvn this deep and gloomy corridor and far 
across the Park ^^d on toward the Great Plains, 
Hagues stupendous storm-hatching mass sends tempest 
after tempest in summer; and in winter, fills its spruce- 
clad depths with booming blizzards. Hagues is the 
restless plotting Macbeth of the oberland; and the 
Black Canon, its witch's cauldron. 

A beautiful trail leads up the canon to Lawn 
Lake and the Hallett Glacier, past the ranch of 
Donald MacGregor, the pioneer of those parts. The 
limpid stream that issues from the cool pungent deeps 
of this glorious forest aisle supplies Estes village with 
water; and close to the intake, precipitates itself in a 
handsome fall. 



122 



A THUNDER-CLOUD ISSUING FROM THE 
BLACK CANON 

THE Thunder Cloud 
In vap'rous grandeur — aerial battleship. 
Loosed from its alp cliffed moorings 
Among the gorges high, 
Manoeuvers for the caiioned channel 
Deep, mid the dark dusked headlands 
Of the gloomed forest aisle; 
And at each promontory — belches 
Its forked flashing petard bolt 
As on it stately plies. 

Blinding — the flash, and thund'ring — the roar, 
And loud the boomings 'verberate 
The spruced gulches o'er and o'er. 

Swift gliding now with white bone in teeth 

The monster heaves its beaked prow 

Of slanting pelting hail. 

And all splashed, the shaggy hills and steeps 

Are cool rain submerged, and laved 

In its mist-flecked swashed trail. 

Straight aimed for the wide op'ed sea of Park 

The stormy galleon sweeps 

With battle smokes dim veiled; 

And vapor fleeced and gray canopied. 

Its lofty tops and turrets 

Lead sombered are — and hid. 

At full speed from the shagg^'d umbered strait 

It bursts in fury on the 

Park, with smothering rain; 

And dripping, the drenched caiion emerges 

From the mists; and bright the sun 

Gleams on the peaks again. 

Mid way o'er the sunny sea of Park 

The Cloudship spies Olympus, 

High upreared o'er the plain; 

And with cruiser flight and dead ahead 

The Rainer with foamed wake bears 

That peak upon, most dread. 



123 



Shot after shot, the great guns roaring. 

Hurl full on the crag massed fort; 

And leaping — crimson fall 

Adown the Mountain's grassy glades. 

And sweep its wide wooded slopes 

With fire's red cardinal. 

Torpedo lightnings now, vivid — ^with 

Sharp hiss of whirring motor. 

Flash bright horizontal. 

Fearful too, with strained utmost speed 

And engines clanking slaughter. 

The Craft to ram proceeds. 

With terrific shock it projectiles. 

And tho firm the Mountain stands. 

Yet trees and stones are hurled 

From their foundations; and rattling loud 

Chaotic the storm swept heights. 

Boughs down the steeps are whirled. 

Deep murked — mist streaming, Olympus stands, 

As the Battler's beak is plunged. 

Storm steeled and whirlwind curled. 

Full at the Mountain's rock armored ribs; 

And then the swart Peak's head, dim, 

Thru the shred Storm Cloud nibs. 

Rent and shattered now, the Thunderer 

Past the Mountain speeds; and flees 

Onward with tempest spleen; 

And cool the parched valley floor is drenched 

By flood of rain jet-spurting 

From streaming wounds unseen. 

Triumphant now, 'mong the mist wreckage 

And the sun's gold glory beam. 

The Mountain Hfts its head; 

And 'cross the douched reaches of the Park 

A bright bow is shining flung — 

Glad symbol of the Ark. 



124 



MOUNTAIN MAID 

OH, wild is the wind 
On the mountain's brow; 

And wild is the heart of the wood. 
Wild and white is 
The glacier's snow; 

And wild the torrent's flood. 
Yet wilder still — ^vast virginal — 
With maiden depths unwooed. 
Is the witching glance 
Of the Mountain Maid. 
In vestal flow'ring mood. 

No pool dim hid 'neath leafy bower — 
No deep tarn so rippling bright. 
Or sun enamoured sky; 
No bud of heath or satined flower 

Can match Thy soul-windowed light — 
Thy soft empassioned eye. 
No mountain head, o'er its breast of snow. 
Can more chaste or nobler rise. 
Than head of Thine and brow, 
Uplifted o'er a bosom pure 
As fleece in azure skies. 

What swift stream arun down mossy glade. 
With lipped banks of flower rows. 
Can match the freshness dewed 
Of Thy cheeks in flaming beauty 'rayed — 
Fair, out-blushing alpine rose 
In deepest color hued! 
The quivering depths of dusky Night, 
With star-smould'ring passion fires. 
Are cold beside the flames, 
Which Thy casual, clear, askant. 
Yet melting, glance inspires. 

Thy hair is like silken glossy rye. 
That radiant 'neath the sun 
Shines rich as rippling gold. 



125 



Thy breath is like blossom laden sky, 
That herds deep breathe in June, 
And bees with sweets enfold. 
Thy leap is like the far-bounding doe. 
Who swift flies beside the stag; 
And drinks in grateful quaff 
Of pulsing joy, 'mid mountain wilds 
And high ascending crag. 

Oh, Mountain Maid! Thy wild beauty reigns 
Supreme, in many a heart 
That yearns but never tells 
Its love to Thee in fear of rude pains — 
And which Thy pure guileless art 
To sweetest silence quells. 
Reign on, then. Thou fair Diana soul, 
*Mong Thy native sylvan haunts; 
Till suitor bolder vaunts 
His taut bow in sure control — 
Piercing Thee with Cupid's dart. 

Oh, wild is the wind 

On the mountain's brow; 

And wild is the heart of the wood. 
Wild and white is 
The glacier's snow; 

And wild the torrent's flood. 
Yet wilder still — vast virginal — 

With maiden depths unwooed. 

Is the witching glance 

Of the Mountain Maid, 

In vestal flow' ring mood. 



126 



LOVE 

OH, Heart! Oh, Heart! 
I bury me, in the pit 
Of Thy purple core; 
And find in mine arms 
The fragrant flesh 
Of the love-mate I adore. 

Oh, Soul! Oh, Soul! 
We ruby Thee, with the 
Red blood-drip of desire; 
And find in our breasts 
The altar flames 
Of divine celestial fire. 

Oh, Joy! Oh, Joy! 

What sweet ecstacy 

Is the glory of this love; 

Sent — man and woman. 

To the Earth — 

And sacred conjugate by them. 

Pure generates 

Beatitudes of holiness 

On nuptial stem; 

Which, to Heaven rises 

'Brosial, to lave 

The heart of Him above. 

Oh, God! Oh, God! 
We, mated, kneel to Thee, 
Naked as ancient sires. 
In innocence we dwell. 
And *joy the pure desires. 
In spirit and truth 
We worship Thee — 
Accept our holy prayers; 
For none can rise 
But the affinity 
Of Thy accepted pairs. 



127 




'TIS EVENING IN THE VALLEY OF 
ELKANAH 

ONE cloud aloft in bright glory hung. 
Ablush in the arms of the setting sun. 
One star agleam in the misty West, 
A jewel aflame on the twiHght's breast. 
One moon afull on the mountain's crest, 
GHttering in splendor — in silver drest. 
'Tis evening in the Valley of Elkanah. 

One song of brook and its murm'ring rill. 
From the deep brooding forest on the hill. 

One cry of bird as it seeks its nest, 

To cuddle the brood thru the long night's rest. 

One stir of vs^ind in the aspen boughs, 

As the shadows fall of the still eve's drowse. 
'Tis evening in the Valley of Elkanah. 

One sigh of joy for a sweet day passed 

In honest toil and labor's sweatened cast. 

One throb of heart for the supper's cheer. 
And a greeting of those I love so dear. 

One love in soul for the sons of men; 

A prayer to God, and a chastened Amen! 
'Tis evening in the Valley of Elkanah. 



128 



'T/ie influence of fine scenery, 
the presence of mountains, ap- 
peases our irritations and el- 
evates our friendships.'' 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 




H ^'P7 85 .4 



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